V 


THE    FLAMES    REACHED   TOWARD   ME   GREEDILY 
(Page  63) 


TWO  WYOMING  GIRLS 

And  Their  Homestead  Claim 


H  Stors  for  0irls 


MRS.  CARRIE   L.  MARSHALL 


Author  of  "  The  Girl  Ranchers,"  Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  IDA  WAUGH 


THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA  MDCCCXCIX 


COPYRIGHT  1899  BY  THE  PENN  PUBLISHING  CPMPANY 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I  I  Go  ON  AN  ERRAND 7 

II  THE  WILL  OP  THE  WATERS 23 

III  AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  SHAFT 37 

IV  A  PLOT  FOILED 44 

V  AN  EXCITING  EXPERIENCE 57 

VI  A  VISIT  FROM  MRS.  HORTON 68 

VII  SURMISES 77 

VIII  "BEST  LAID  PLANS" 92 

IX  AN  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT 108 

X  RALPH  AND  I  GO  BLACKBERRYING 118 

XI  THE  CATTLE  BRAND 130 

XII  ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  A  WILDCAT 145 

XIII  JOE  DISAPPEARS 158 

XIV  AT  THE  STORAGE  RESERVOIR 172 

XV  CHASED  BY  WOLVES 183 

5 


6  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGK 

XVI  A  SLEEPLESS  NIGHT 194 

XVII  A  QUEER  BANK 207 

XVIII  A  VITAL  POINT 227 

XIX  MR.  HORTON  MAKES  us  A  VISIT 240 

XX  GUARD  MAKES  A  MISTAKE 253 

XXI  A  FRIEND  IN  NEED 261 

XXII  AN  OPEN  WINDOW 278 

XXIII  ALONE  ON  THE  CLAIM 284 

XXIV  HUNTING  FOR  GUARD 294 

XXV  GUARD'S  PRISONER 304 

XXVI  MR.  HORTON  CAPITULATES 310 


TWO  WYOMING  GIRLS 


CHAPTER  I 

I   GO   ON   AN   ERRAND 

A  FIERCE  gust  of  wind  and  rain  struck  the 
windows,  and  Jessie,  on  her  way  to  the  breakfast 
table,  dish  in  hand,  paused  to  listen. 

"  Raining  again  !"  she  exclaimed,  setting  the 
dish  down  emphatically.  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
it  has  rained  every  day  this  spring.  When  it 
hasn't  poured  here  in  the  valley,  it  has  more 
than  made  up  for  it  in  the  mountains." 

"  You  are  more  than  half  right,"  father  said, 
drawing  his  chair  up  to  the  table.  "  Is  break- 
fast ready,  dear  ?  I  am  going  to  work  in  the 
mines  to-day,  and  I'm  in  something  of  a  hurry." 

"  Going  to  work  in  the  mines  !"  Jessie  echoed 
the  words,  as,  I  am  sure,  I  did  also.  I  was  sit- 

7 


8  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

ting  in  the  corner  dressing  little  Ralph,  or,  to 
be  strictly  accurate,  trying  to  dress  him.  No 
three  year-old  that  ever  lived  could  be  more 
exasperating  than  he  sometimes  was  during  that 
ordeal  or  could  show  a  more  pronounced  distaste 
for  the  bondage  of  civilized  garments. 

Jessie  made  haste  to  dish  up  the  breakfast, 
but  she  inquired :  "  Do  you  remember,  papa, 
what  that  old  miner  who  was  here  the  other 
day  told  us  about  mines  in  the  wet  season? 
About  what  was  liable  to  happen  sometimes, 
and  did  happen  here  once,  a  good  many  years 
ago?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  do,"  father  answered, 
glancing  toward  Ralph  and  me,  to  see  if  we 
were  ready.  As  we  were  anything  but  that,  he 
continued ;  "  I  guess  I  won't  wait  for  you  chil- 
dren." 

"Don't,  please!"  I  exclaimed,  "Ralph  is  a 
perfect  little  buzz-saw  this  morning.  Keep  still, 
Ralph !" 

"  Me  want  to  do  barefoot !  Me  want  to  wade 
in  'e  puddle !"  cried  the  child,  pulling  one  soft 


I    GO    ON    AN    ERRAND  9 

little  foot  out  of  the  stocking  that  I  had  just 
succeeded  in  getting  upon  it. 

"  Ralph  !"  I  cried,  angrily  :  "  I've  a  good  no- 
tion to  spank  you !" 

"Don't,  Leslie!"  father  interposed,  mildly; 
"  I  remember  so  well  how  I  liked  to  wade  in  the 
mud-puddles  when  I  was  a  little  shaver ;  but  it's 
too  early  in  the  season,  and  too  cold  for  that 
sort  of  sport  now.  So,  Ralph,  my  boy,  let  sister 
dress  you,  and  don't  hinder." 

Ralph  always  obeyed  father's  slightest  word, 
no  matter  how  gently  the  word  was  spoken ;  so 
now  he  sat  demurely  silent  while  I  completed 
his  toilet. 

"  What  was  it  that  your  friend,  the  miner, 
said,  Jessie  ?"  father  asked,  as  Jessie  took  her 
seat  and  poured  out  his  coffee. 

"  He  said  that  there  had  been  so  much  rain 
on  the  mountains,  and  that  the  Crusoe  mines 
were  on  such  a  low  level  that  there  was  some 
danger  of  an  inrush  of  water,  like  that  which 
ruined  the  Lost  Chance,  before  we  came  here." 

"  I  recollect  hearing  something  about  the  Lost 


10  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Chance/'  father  said,  going  on  with  his  breakfast 
indifferently.  "There  may  have  been  water 
crevices  in  it.  The  accident  was  probably  caused 
by  them — and  neglect." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  all  due  to 
neglect,"  Jessie  persisted.  "  The  miner  said  that 
the  springs  and  rivers  were  all  booming  full,  just 
as  they  are  now.  People  never  thought  of  danger 
from  the  water,  because  it  was  so  often  warm  and 
dry  in  the  valley — as  it  is,  you  know,  often,  even 
when  it  is  raining  hard  on  the  mountains.  The 
miner  said  that  the  men  went  on  with  their  work 
in  the  mine,  as  usual,  until,  one  afternoon,  the 
timbered  walls  of  the  tunnels  slumped  in  like  so 
much  wet  sand.  What  had  been  underground 
passages  became,  in  a  moment,  underground 
rivers,  for  the  water  that  had  been  held  back  and 
dammed  up  so  long  just  poured  in  in  a  drown- 
ing flood.  He  said  that  the  rainfall  seeped 
through  the  bogs  up  on  the  mountains,  and  fed 
underground  reservoirs  that  held  the  water 
safely  until  they  were  overtaxed.  When  that 
happened  the  water  would  burst  out,  finding  an 


I    GO   ON    AN    ERRAND  11 

outlet  for  itself  in  some  new  place.  The  only 
reason  that  any  one  of  the  force  of  thirty  men 
usually  employed  in  the  mine  escaped  was  that 
the  accident  occurred  just  as  they  were  putting 
on  a  new  shift.  I  remember  very  well  what  he 
told  us." 

"  I  see  that  you  do,"  father  responded,  with  a 
thoughtful  glance  at  her  earnest  face,  "  but  I 
reckon  he  rather  overdid  the  business.  These 
old  miners  are  always  full  of  whims  and  fore- 
casts ;  they  are  as  superstitious  as  sailors." 

"  What  he  told  was  not  superstition  ;  it  was 
a  fact,"  replied  Jessie,  with  unexpected  logic. 

Father  smiled.  "  Well,  anyway,  don't  you 
get  to  worrying  about  the  Gray  Eagle,  daughter. 
It's  rather  damp  these  days,  I  admit,  but  as  safe 
as  this  kitchen." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so,  papa  ?"  Jessie  asked, 
evidently  reassured. 

"  Well,  perhaps  not  quite  as  safe,"  father 
answered,  with  half  a  smile.  "  It's  a  good  deal 
darker  for  one  thing,  you  know,  and  there  are 
noises — " 


12  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

He  lapsed  into  that  kind  of  listening  silence 
that  comes  to  one  who  is  striving  to  recall  some- 
thing that  has  been  heard,  not  seen,  or  felt,  and 
I  was  about  to  insist  upon  a  further  elucidation 
of  those  subterranean  sounds  when  the  door 
opened  and  a  man,  whom  father  had  hired  for 
the  day,  put  in  his  head : 

"  Say,  Mr.  Gordon,  I  can't  find  a  spade  any- 
where," he  announced. 

"  Well,  there !"  father  exclaimed,  with  a  dis- 
turbed look,  "  our  spade  was  left  at  the  mine 
the  last  day  that  we  worked  there." 

"  That's  too  bad  !"  the  man,  who  was  a  neigh- 
bor, as  neighbors  go  on  the  frontier,  said  regret- 
fully. "  I  can  go  back  home  and  get  mine,  but 
the  team's  hitched  up;  it's  stopped  raining,  an' 
there's  a  load  of  posts  on  the  wagon.  Seems 
'most  a  pity  for  me  to  take  time  to  go  an'  hunt 
up  a  spade,  but  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  do  it.  I 
never  saw  the  man  yet  that  could  dig  post  holes 
without  one." 

"  Oh,  no,  Reynolds,  don't  stop  your  work  for 
that;  I'll  have  to  bring  mine  down;  it's  about 


I   GO   ON    AN    EKRAND  13 

as  near  to  get  it  from  the  Gray  Eagle  as  to  go  to 
one  of  the  neighbors;  you  just  go  011  with  your 
work." 

Reynolds  withdrew  accordingly,  and,  as  the 
door  closed  upon  him,  father  said : 

"  I'm  anxious  to  earn  every  dollar  I  can  to 
help  fence  that  wheat  field,  before  Horton's  cat- 
tle '  accidentally '  stray  into  it.  I  was  out  to 
look  at  it  this  morning.  The  field  looks  as  if 
covered  with  a  green  carpet,  it's  coming  up  so 
thick.  I  count  it  good  luck  to  be  able  to  get 
Reynolds  to  go  on  with  the  fence-building  while 
I  work  in  the  mine,  for  I  can  exchange  work  to 
pay  him,  while  the  pay  that  comes  from  the 
mine  is  so  much  cash." 

"And  when  we  get  our  title  clear,  won't  I 
shoo  Mr.  Horton's  cattle  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth !"  I  said,  resentfully,  for  we  all  under- 
stood well  enough  that  the  reason  that  father 
was  so  anxious  to  earn  money  was  to  pay  for  the 
final  "  proving  up  "  on  his  homestead  claim,  as 
well  as  to  build  fences.  "  I'm  teaching  Guard 
to  '  heel '  on  purpose  to  keep  track  of  those 


14  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

cattle,"  I  concluded,  audaciously,  for  father 
didn't  approve  of  a  policy  of  retaliation. 

"  Horton's  cattle  are  not  to  blame,"  he  said 
now,  but  the  shadow  that  always  came  over  his 
patient  face  at  the  mention  of  our  intractable 
neighbor  settled  heavily  upon  it  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  know  the  cattle  are  not  to  blame,"  I  re- 
torted, with  a  good  deal  of  temper.  "  I  just  wish 
that  their  master  himself  would  come  out  and 
trample  on  our  corn  and  wallow  in  our  wheat 
field,  instead  of  driving  his  cattle  up  so  that 
they  may  do  it ;  I'd  set  Guard  on  him  with  the 
greatest  pleasure." 

"  Now,  now,  Leslie,  you  shouldn't  talk  so !" 
father  remonstrated  gently. 

But  here  Jessie,  whose  disposition  is  much 
more  placid  than  mine,  broke  in,  abruptly  : 

"  I  don't  blame  Leslie  for  feeling  so,  father. 
Only  think,  we've  been  on  this  place  nearly  five 
years,  and  we've  never  yet  raised  a  crop,  be- 
cause Mr.  Horton's  cattle,  no  matter  where  they 
may  be  ranging,  always  get  up  here  just  in 
time — the  right  time — to  do  the  most  damage. 


I    GO   ON    AN    ERE  AND  15 

The  other  neighbors'  cattle  hardly  ever  stray 
into  our  fields,  and  when  they  do  the  neighbors 
are  good  about  it.  Think  of  the  time  when  Mr. 
Rollins's  herd  got  into  the  corn  field  and  ate  the 
corn  rows  down,  one  after  another.  Mr.  Rol- 
lins came  after  them  himself,  and  paid  the  dam- 
age, without  a  word  of  complaint.  Besides,  he 
said  that  it  shouldn't  happen  again ;  and  it 
didn't.  When  has  Mr.  Horton  ever  done  a 
thing  like  that  ?" 

"He's  been  kept  busy  other  ways,"  father 
said,and  his  voice  had  none  of  the  resentment  that 
Jessie's  expressed.  "  The  last  time  that  his  cat- 
tle got  in  here  I  went  to  see  him  about  it,  and  he 
said  that  the  field  was  a  part  of  the  range,  being 
unfenced,  and  that  any  lawyer  in  the  United 
States  would  sustain  him  in  saying  so.  He  was 
quite  right,  too — only  he  was  not  neighborly." 

"  Neighborly  !  I  should  say  not,"  Jessie  ex- 
claimed, with  a  lowering  brow.  "  His  horses 
have  trampled  down  our  garden  and  girdled  all 
our  fruit  trees,  even  to  the  Seckel  pear  that 
mother  brought  from  grandfather's." 


16  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  I  know ;  it  is  very  trying,"  father  said, 
stifling  a  sigh ;  "  but  it  can  do  no  good  to  dwell 
on  these  things,  daughter.  An  enemy  of  any 
kind  does  you  more  injury  when  he  destroys  your 
peace  of  mind,  and  causes  you  to  harbor  re- 
vengeful feelings,  than  he  can  possibly  achieve 
in  any  other  way.  We  must  keep  up  our  cour- 
age, and  make  the  best  of  present  circumstances, 
bad  as  they  sometimes  are.  A  change  is  bound 
to  come." 

"  Me  wants  more  breakfuss,"  Ralph  broke  in, 
suddenly,  extending  his  empty  milk-cup  toward 
me,  his  chief  servitor.  I  refilled  it  from  the 
pitcher  beside  me,  and  as  I  absently  crumbled 
bits  of  bread  into  it  I  sought  enlightenment. 
"  I  never  quite  understood,  father,  why  Mr. 
Horton  is  so  spiteful  toward  us." 

"  It  is  easily  understood,  Leslie.  He  wants 
this  homestead  claim,  and  hopes  to  weary  us  into 
giving  it  up." 

"He  can  find  plenty  of  other  claims,"  I  argued. 

"  Yes ;  but  not  such  as  this.  This  is  an  up- 
per valley,  as  you  know,  and  just  above  our 


I    GO   ON    AN    ERKAND  17 

claim  five  mountain  streams  join  the  main 
river  as  the  fingers  of  a  hand  join  the  palm,  the 
main  river  being  the  palm.  Every  square  foot 
of  our  claim  can  be  irrigated,  and  it  takes  in 
about  all  of  the  valley  that  is  worth  taking — 
enough  to  control  the  water  rights  for  all  the 
land  below  us.  That  is  the  reason  why  Horton 
is  trying  so  hard  to  dislodge  us.  He  would  like 
to  be  able  to  make  the  ranchmen  on  the  lower 
ranches  come  to  his  terms  about  the  water." 

"  But  the  law  regulates  the  water  rights,"  said 
Jessie. 

"  It  is  supposed  to  do  so,  and  does  it,  after  a 
fashion,  but  no  human  laws  have  ever  yet  been 
able  to  satisfactorily  regulate  a  mean  man.  It 
would  be  a  great  misfortune  to  the  ranchmen 
below  if  Horton  were  to  get  a  title  to  this  place ; 
he  likes  to  make  people  feel  his  authority,  and 
one  effective  way  of  doing  that  would  be  to 
worry  people  about  the  water  supply,  just  when 
they  needed  it  most,  of  course.  I  feel  now  that 
our  danger  of  losing  the  place  is  past.  It  has 
been  a  hard  struggle  to  bear  up  against  nearly 
2 


18  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

five  years  of  such  sly,  petty  persecutions. 
Horton  is  careful  not  to  oppose  us  openly. 
When  he's  found  out,  as  he  is  occasionally,  it 
always  appears  that  he  has  been  careful  to  keep 
within  the  letter  of  the  law.  Well,  as  Leslie 
says,  we'll  get  our  title  clear,  and  then  the  wind 
will  be  out  of  Mr.  Horton's  sails.  I've  been 
afraid  to  make  a  move,  or  to  do  anything  except 
curl  down  and  study  the  homestead  laws  all  this 
time.  If  I  had  come  to  an  open  rupture  with 
him  he  might  have  gone  down  to  the  land  office 
and  told  some  story  of  his  own  invention  to  the 
agent  that  would  injure  me  greatly,  for  land 
agents  are  only  too  ready  to  believe  evil  of  laud 
claimants,  it  seems  to  me.  Now  my  notice  for 
offering  final  proof  is  in  one  of  the  papers ;  it 
must  be  published  three  times,  and  the  period 
of  publication  must  not  range  over  more  than 
three  months  at  the  outside,  so  you  see,  at  the 
farthest,  if  our  proof  is  accepted,  we  shall  have 
a  deed  to  this  place  within  three  months.  I  do 
not  see  how  we  can  fail  to  get  it ;  we  have  com- 
plied with  all  the  requirements." 


I    GO    ON    AN    ERKAND  19 

"  Yes,"  Jessie  assented,  gravely.  "  We  have 
two  cows,  two  horses,  a  cat,  a  dog,  a  clock,  some 
chairs,  some  dishes,  a  table,  a  stove,  and  some 
poultry." 

Father  smiled,  the  slow,  serious  smile  that  had 
replaced  his  cheery  laugh  since  mother's  death 
two  years  before.  "You  are  well  posted  on 
homestead  laws,  daughter,"  he  said,  rising  from 
the  table.  "  Where's  my  coat,  Leslie,  did  you 
get  it  mended  ?" 

For  answer  I  took  down  a  worn,  light,  gray 
coat  from  a  nail  behind  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Look  at  that !"  I  said,  pointing  proudly  to  a 
very  conspicuous  patch  on  the  elbow  of  one 
sleeve.  An  older  seamstress  would  have  felt, 
perhaps,  that  the  patch  asserted  its  existence 
almost  too  defiantly  ;  it  seemed  almost  to  vaunt 
itself,  but  conscious  of  the  rectitude  of  my  in- 
tentions, if  not  of  my  work,  I  raised  my  face, 
expectantly,  awaiting  the  praise  that  I  felt  to  be 
my  due.  I  was  not  disappointed.  Father  held 
the  garment  up  to  the  light  and  examined  the 
mending  with  critical  approval. 


20  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"  That's  what  I  call  a  good  job,  my  little 
girl,"  he  said  heartily,  but  Jessie,  glancing  at 
the  proof  of  my  housewifely  skill,  as  evidenced 
by  the  coat,  laughed. 

"  'A  tear  may  be  the  accident  of  a  moment/  " 
she  quoted,  "  '  but  a  patch  is  premeditated  pov- 
erty.' And  such  a  patcli !  You  could  see  it  a 
mile  away.  Really,  Leslie,  it  looks  like  Jere- 
miah Porlock's  cattle  brand." 

I  felt  my  face  crimsoning  with  indignation, 
but  was  happily  prevented  from  making  the 
retort  that  sprang  to  my  lips,  as  father  mur- 
mured ruefully : 

"  Dear,  dear,  what  a  pity  that  Joe  left  the 
spade!  It  will  just  about  spoil  my  whole  fore- 
noon to  be  obliged  to  stop  and  bring  it  down. 
However,  there's  no  help  for  it." 

"  Yes,  there  is,  papa,"  I  cried,  springing  to  my 
feet.  "  I'll  go  up  with  you  and  bring  it  back." 

It  was  characteristic  of  father's  gentleness 
toward  us  his  motherless  young  daughters,  that  he 
had  not  once  thought  of  the  possibility  of  either 
of  us  acting,  in  this  instance,  as  his  substitute. 


I   GO   ON    AN    ERRAND  21 

"  It's  a  long  walk,"  he  objected,  looking  at 
me  doubtfully. 

"  Long !  Why,  papa,  I've  taken  longer  walks 
than  that,  lots  of  times.  It  isn't  above  a  mile 
and  a  half;  I  could  run  every  step  of  the 
way !" 

"  Me,  too,"  proclaimed  Ealph,  descending  from 
his  high  chair  in  such  haste  that  he  fell  sprawl- 
ing on  the  floor.  Disdaining,  on  this  occasion, 
to  weep  for  an  accident  that,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  would  have  opened  the  flood- 
gates of  woe,  he  scrambled  to  his  feet :  "  Me 
do  wiv  'oo,  'Essie!"  A  battered  old  hat  of 
Joe's  was  hanging  on  the  wall,  within  reach  of 
his  chubby  hand;  he  snatched  it  down  and 
set  it  quickly  on  his  head,  pulling  down  the 
wide  brim  until  his  brown  curls  and  the  upper 
part  of  his  rosy  little  face  were  completely  ex- 
tinguished. "  Me  ready,  'Essie,"  he  said.  He 
was  a  comical  little  figure.  Papa  took  him 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  him.  Then  he  set  him 
gently  on  his  feet  again ;  "  You  can't  go  with 
sister  to-day,  my  boy." 


22  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"'Ess,"  Ralph  declared,  with  unusual  per- 
sistence, "  Me  do !" 

"  No,"  father  reiterated.  He  opened  the  door, 
and  we  slipped  out,  followed  for  some  distance 
along  the  trail  by  the  deserted  youngster's  ear- 
splitting  shrieks.  Father  halted  once,  looking 
irresolutely  at  me  as  a  peculiarly  heart-rending 
outburst  came  to  our  ears.  "  I  could  easily  carry 
him  up  there,"  he  said,  with  a  somewhat  sheep- 
ish look,  "  but  I  suppose  you  couldn't  fetch  him 
home?" 

"  Come  along,  father,"  I  retorted,  slipping 
my  hand  under  his  arm.  "  Jessie  will  have 
Ralph  consoled  before  you  could  get  back  to 
the  house,  and,  when  we  started,  you  were  in 
some  doubt  as  to  whether  I  could  carry  a  spade 
home  from  the  mine." 

"  That's  true,"  father  confessed.  "  But  hasn't 
the  boy  got  a  pair  of  lungs,  though  ?  I  doubt 
if  I  was  ever  able  to  yell  like  that.  I  dare  say 
it's  partly  owing  to  the  climate;  it's  very 
healthy." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    WILL    OF    THE    WATEKS 

CRUSOE  was  the  generic  name  of  the  collec- 
tion of  rough  shanties  that  clustered  about  and 
among  the  various  shaft-houses.  Not  all  of  the 
mines  had  attained  to  the  dignity  of  shaft-houses 
and  regular  hours,  many  of  them,  indeed,  being 
mere  prospect-holes,  but  all  were  named,  and  a 
student  of  human  nature  might  have  accurately 
gauged  the  past  experience  or  present  hopeful- 
ness of  their  respective  owners  by  some  of  the 
curious  freaks  of  nomenclature. 

The  shaft-house  of  the  Gray  Eagle  was  the 
last  but  one  at  the  upper  extremity  of  the  ravine 
along  which  Crusoe  straggled.  Father  and  I, 
hurrying  past  the  cabins,  had  nearly  reached  it, 
when  a  loud  call  from  the  open  doorway  of  one 
of  the  larger  cabins  brought  us  to  a  halt. 

"  There's  old  Joe !"  father  said,  glancing  at 
the  individual  who  had  shouted ;  "  I  was  in 

23 


24  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

hopes  that  I  could  slip  past  without  his  seeing 
me." 

"  No  such  good  luck  as  that,"  I  said,  with 
what  I  felt  to  be  uncharitable  impatience ;  "  I 
almost  believe  that  Joe  sits  up  nights  to  watch 
for  you.  It's  a  shame,  too,  for  him  to  try  to 
work  in  the  mines.  Just  look  at  him  !" 

"  I've  looked  at  him  a  good  many  times, 
Leslie,  dear,  but  he  would  be  in  a  ten  times 
worse  position  if  I  were  to  tell  him  that  I  am 
old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself.  Since  the 
day  I  was  born  he  has  spent  his  life  in  watching 
over  me." 

From  all  accounts  that  was  strictly  true.  The 
white-wooled  old  negro  who,  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
now  came  limping  down  the  pathway  toward  us, 
had  once  been  a  slave  on  grandfather  Gordon's 
estate.  When  freedom  came  to  all  the  slaves, 
old  Joe — who  was  young  Joe  then — declined  to 
accept  of  any  liberty,  or  to  follow  any  occupa- 
tion that  might  take  him  away  from  his  master's 
oldest  son,  Ralph  Gordon,  our  father.  The 
negro's  mission  in  life,  as  he  understood  it, 


THE    WILL    OF    THE    WATERS  25 

was  simply  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  young  man, 
for  the  young  man's  good.  The  flight  of  years 
did  not  lessen  his  sense  of  responsibility  any 
more  than  it  did  his  devotion,  which  was  immeas- 
urable. But,  curiously  enough,  he  seemed  to 
prefer,  on  the  whole,  not  to  reside  with  the  object 
of  his  adoration.  It  was  enough  for  him  if  he 
could  but  hover  around  in  father's  vicinity,  and 
this  he  did  with  such  tireless  persistency  that  in 
all  the  changes,  the  shifting  scenes  of  his  Western 
life,  the  one  thing  that  father  owned  to  being 
absolutely  sure  of  was,  that  no  matter  where  he 
went,  or  how  quietly,  the  place  that  knew  him 
presently  became  familiar  also  with  the  white 
wool  and  shambling  figure  of  old  Joe. 

"  I  'clar  ter  goodness  !"  groaned  Joe,  reaching 
us  at  last,  and  hobbling  on  beside  us,  "  I  didn' 
'low  fur  t'  wuck  ter-day ;  my  rheumatiz  is  tuck 
dat  bad !" 

"  Don't  work,  then,  Joe  ;  the  mine  is  as  wet  as 
a  sponge.  You'll  be  the  worse  to-morrow  for 
going  into  it,"  remonstrated  father,  kindly. 

"No;  I  reckons   I's  wuck  ef  yo'   does;  hit 


26  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

ain'  out  o'  place,  noway,  fur  me  ter  crope  inter 
a  hole  like  dat ;  but  w'at  fur  yo'  keep  w'alin' 
at  wuck  in  de  mine?  'Pears  like  a  gen'le- 
man  might  fin'  more  fitten'  kine  o'  wuck  dan 
dat." 

"  The  kind  of  work  neither  makes  nor  un- 
makes one,  Joe,"  returned  father,  good-lm- 
moredly ;  "  but  I'm  not  going  to  do  this  sort  of 
work  much  longer.  I'm  calculating  on  opening 
up  the  ranch  in  fine  shape,  with  your  help,  when 
I  get  the  title  to  it." 

"  Wen  yo'  'low  fur  ter  git  dat  titull  ?" 

"In  about  three  months.  You'll  have  to 
come  and  live  with  us  then,  Joe,  so  as  to  be  on 
hand  to  help  us." 

"Yes,"  the  old  man  assented,  with  unex- 
pected readiness,  "  I  'spect  I  shall.  I'se  mighty 
good  farmer,  yo'  knows,  Mas'r  Ralph.  Hit 
goin'  take  nigh  a  week  ter  tell  all  dat  I  knows 
erbout  raisin'  ob  watermillions  an'  goobers.  Yo' 
'low  dat  goobers  grow  in  dish  yer  kentry,  Mas'r 
Ralph  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.     Why  not  ?"  father  returned, 


THE   WILL   OP   THE    WATERS  27 

cheerily,  evidently  glad  of  old  Joe's  implied 
willingness  to  take  up  his  abode  with  us. 

We  presently  entered  the  shaft-house.  Rut- 
ledge,  the  mine  superintendent,  was  standing  by 
the  shaft,  and  the  hoisting-cage,  with  its  first 
load  of  ore  from  the  dump  below,  was  moving 
slowly  upward. 

"  You're  late,"  was  his  greeting. 

"  A  trifle  late,"  father  returned,  pleasantly, 
adding,  "  you  can  dock  my  day's  wages  for  it  if 
you  like." 

"  I  know  that  without  you  telling  me,  but  I 
shouldn't  like,"  Rutledge  said,  crossly.  We  all 
knew  him  slightly,  and  I  had  thought  him  a 
pleasant  young  gentleman,  but  he  was  looking 
sullen  to-day,  almost  angry,  it  seemed  to  me. 
We  stood  there  waiting,  and  the  cage  had 
reached  the  surface  and  automatically  dumped 
its  load  before  Rutledge  spoke  again. 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  coming,  in  spite  of 
your  promise,"  he  then  said,  looking  toward 
father.  "  No  one  could  have  blamed  you  if  you 
had  shown  the  white  feather — " 


28  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"Say,  yo'  heah  me!"  broke  ill  old  Joe,  sud- 
deiily  and  savagely,  his  voice  quivering  with 
indignation.  "Ole  Gunnel  Gordon's  son  am' 
one  o'  de  kine  w'at  done  breaks  promises,  ner 
yit  w'at's  a-showin'  w'ite  fedders.  Ef  yo's 
lookin'  fer  dat  kiue  of  a  man,  git  a  lookiu'-glass 
an'  study  de  face  dat  yo'  sees  in  hit,  den  maybe 
yo'  fine  'iin  !" 

Rutledge  smiled,  although  he  still  scowled 
disapproval. 

"  That's  all  right,  Joe ;  there  are  no  cowards 
around  the  Gray  Eagle  shaft-house,  but  I 
couldn't  blame  any  one  for  keeping  out  of  the 
mine  to-day — not  but  what  it's  safe  enough,  as 
far  as  I  can  see — I've  just  been  down." 

For  an  instant  his  words  startled  and  thrilled 
me.  Could  it  be  that  there  was  so  much  dan- 
ger in  working  in  the  mine  then  ?  I  glanced 
at  father.  He  was  just  stepping  into  the  cage, 
and  his  face  was  as  serene  as  if  Rutledge's  dis- 
course had  been  of  some  possible  disturbance  in 
the  moon.  The  look  of  displeasure  on  Rut- 
ledge's  face  deepened  as  I  caught  hold  of  one 


THE    WILL    OF    THE    WATERS  29 

of  the  ropes  and  swung  myself  lightly  into  the 
cage,  following  father  and  Joe.  Delaying  the 
signal  for  descent,  Rutledge  said  : 

"  While  it  may  be  safe  enough  down  there,  it 
isn't  exactly  like  a  lady's  parlor,  Gordon — not 
to-day,  anyway," 

"  Oh,  Leslie  is  just  going  down  on  an  errand," 
father  explained.  "  But,  Leslie,  perhaps  you 
had  better  wait  here  and  let  me  send  the  spade 
up  to  you." 

"  And  make  you  walk  from  your  tunnel  clear 
back  to  the  hoisting  cage  again!"  I  remon- 
strated. "  Why,  Mr.  Rutledge,  I've  been  down 
lots  of  times,  you  know,  and  I'm  not  at  all 
afraid." 

The  superintendent  had  looked  relieved  when 
he  heard  that  my  stay  in  the  mine  was  likely  to 
be  a  short  one.  I  wondered,  inconsequently.  as 
the  cage  started  on  its  downward  passage,  if  he 
had  thought  that  I  was  going  down  on  a  tour 
of  inspection.  There  would  have  been  nothing 
for  him  to  fear  from  any  one's  inspection  ;  he 
was  a  good  superintendent.  "  Don't  stay  long, 


30  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

Miss  Leslie,"  he  called  down  after  us.  I  could 
no  longer  see  his  face,  but  his  voice  sounded 
anxious,  and  father  remarked : 

"  Rutledge  seems  quite  uneasy,  somehow." 
"  Dese  yer  minin'  bosses,  dey  knows  dey  busi- 
ness," muttered  old  Joe.  "  Dey  knows  dat  de 
rheumatiz  hit  lays  in  wait,  like  a  wile  beas' 
scentin'  hits  prey.  Spect's  Mas'r  Rutledge  he 
hate  fur  ter  see  a  spry  young  gal  like  Miss  Les- 
lie git  all  crippled  up,  same's  a  ole  lame  nigger." 
"  Yes ;  it  must  be  that  he  feared  Leslie  would 
get  the  rheumatism,"  father  said,  in  a  lighter 
tone.  Old  Joe's  explanations  and  reasons  for 
things  were  always  a  source  of  unfailing  delight 
to  him.  The  cage  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
shaft  and  we  stepped  out.  By  the  light  that 
was  always  burning  at  the  tunnel's  mouth  father 
and  Joe  each  selected  a  miner's  lamp  from  the 
stock  in  a  corner,  and,  as  father  was  lighting  his, 
he  said  :  "  You  had  better  carry  a  lamp,  too, 
Leslie."  I  picked  one  up  while  father  slipped 
the  bar  of  his  under  his  cap  band.  Then  he 
glanced  at  my  big  hat.  "  You'll  have  to  carry 


THE   WILL   OF   THE   WATERS  31 

yours  in  your  hand,  child ;  there's  no  room  for 
so  small  a  thing  as  a  miner's  lamp  on  that  great 
island  of  straw  that  you  call  a  shade  hat." 

The  Gray  Eagle  was  a  quartz  gold  mine. 
Tunnels  drifted  this  way  and  that,  wherever 
deposits  of  the  elusive  metal  led  them ;  some- 
times they  even  made  turns  so  sharp  as  to 
almost  double  back  on  themselves.  I  was  glad 
to  see  that  the  point  where  father  and  Joe  halted, 
at  last,  to  pick  up  the  tools  that  they  had  thrown 
down  when  they  quit  work  in  the  mine,  was 
within  sight  of  the  twinkling  yellow  star  that 
marked  the  location  of  the  hoisting  cage.  The 
place  seemed  less  eerie  somehow,  with  this  means 
of  escape  signaled  in  the  darkness.  I  had  been, 
as  I  told  Mr.  Rutledge,  in  the  mines  a  good 
many  times,  but  never  had  its  darkness  seemed 
so  impenetrable,  so  encroaching,  as  on  this  morn- 
ing. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  our  lamps  don't  give  so 
much  light  as  usual, or  else  what  they  do  give  does 
not  go  so  far,"  I  remarked  to  father  as  I  lingered 
beside  him  a  few  moments,  watching  him  work. 


32  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

He  was  using  a  drill  on  the  face  of  the  rock  wall 
in  front  of  him.  He  suspended  operations  now 
to  say :  "  I  noticed  that  myself.  The  air  is 
thick  and  damp ;  the  light  is  lost  much  as  it 
is  in  a  fog."  Then  he  called  my  attention  to 
an  object  lying  on  the  ground  at  his  feet. 
"  There's  the  spade ;  I  guess  you'd  better  be 
going  back  with  it,  dear ;  Reynolds  will  be 
needing  it." 

Accordingly,  with  the  spade  in  one  hand  and 
the  lamp  in  the  other,  I  started  to  retrace  my 
steps  to  the  hoisting  cage.  The  sound  of  the 
drill  that  father  was  now  plying  vigorously  fol- 
lowed me,  becoming  muffled,  rather  than  fainter 
in  the  distance  as  I  proceeded.  From  the 
various  tunnels,  branching  off  to  the  right  and 
left,  came  the  sound  of  other  drills,  and,  occa- 
sionally, the  plaintive  "  hee-haw  "  of  one  of  the 
half-dozen  or  more  little  Aiidalusian  mules  used 
in  hauling  the  loaded  cars  to  and  from  the  ore 
dumps  near  the  hoisting  cage.  With  all  these 
sounds  I  was  more  or  less  familiar,  but  to-day, 
underneath  them  all,  it  seemed  to  me  that  there 


THE   WILL   OP    THE   WATERS  33 

were  others,  myriads  of  them.  To  niy  lively 
young  fancy  the  silence  teemed  with  mysterious 
noises ;  low  groans  and  sighing  whispers  that 
wandered  bodiless  through  dark  tunnels,  drip- 
ping with  a  soft,  unusual  ooze.  Knowing  that 
Reynolds  was  in  a  hurry  for  the  spade  I 
hastened  along,  listening  and  speculating,  until 
coming  opposite  one  of  the  side  extensions 
I  was  suddenly  taken  with  the  whim  to  see  if 
its  walls  were  as  damp  as  those  of  the  tunnel 
that  I  was  then  standing  in.  I  turned  into  it 
accordingly,  but  stopped  doubtfully  after  a  few 
yards.  Holding  the  lamp  aloft  I  looked  inquir- 
ingly along  the  walls.  Damp !  I  understood 
now  why  my  father  wore  a  coat,  a  circumstance 
that  had  already  impressed  itself  upon  my  mind 
as  being  very  unusual  among  these  underground 
workers.  The  water  was  almost  running  down 
the  sides  of  the  rocky  tunnel,  and  the  light  of 
my  lamp  was  reflected  back  at  me  in  a  thousand 
sliding,  mischievous  drops. 

"  Where  does  it  all  come  from  ?"  I  thought, 
laying  my  hand  on  the  face  of  the  rock  before 


34  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

which  I  stood.  My  hand  had  touched  it  for  a 
single  heart-beat,  no  more,  when  I  felt  the  color 
go  out  of  my  face,  leaving  me  with  wide,  staring 
eyes,  while  I  stood  trembling  and  ghastly  white 
in  the  breathless  gloom.  Like  one  suddenly 
bereft  of  all  power  of  speech  or  motion  I  stared 
mutely  at  the  black  wall  before  me.  I  had  felt 
the  rock  move ! 

Standing  there  in  that  awful  darkness,  hun- 
dreds of  feet  underground,  I  understood  what  had 
happened,  what  was  happening,  and,  dumb  with 
the  horror  of  that  awful  knowledge,  stood  mo- 
tionless. All  the  stories  that  I  had  ever  heard 
or  read  of  sudden  irruptions  of  water  in  mines, 
of  dreadful  cavings-in,  flashed  into  my  mind, 
and  then,  breaking  the  paralyzing  trance  of  ter- 
ror, I  turned  and  ran  toward  the  main  tunnel. 
I  tried  to  utter  a  warning  shout  as  I  ran,  but  my 
stiffened  lips  gave  forth  no  sound.  Happily,  as 
I  reached  the  main  tunnel,  the  light  at  the  foot 
of  the  shaft  was  in  direct  range  with  my  vision, 
and  between  the  shaft  and  myself  I  plainly  saw 
a  man  hastening  toward  it.  He  was  wearing  a 


THE    WILL    OF    THE    WATERS  35 

light  gray  coat.  A  quick  glance  toward  the 
spot  where  I  had  left  father  and  Joe  showed 
nothing  but  darkness.  They  had  both  left. 
The  hoisting  cage  was  down,  and,  as  I  raced  to- 
ward it,  the  man  in  the  gray  coat  scrambled  in. 
Even  in  my  terror  and  excitement  I  was  con- 
scious of  an  unreasonable,  desolate  sense  of  de- 
sertion when  I  saw  that.  Yet,  underneath  it 
all  a  lingering  fragment  of  common  sense  told 
me  that  father  would  believe  me,  by  this,  safe 
above ;  he  had  told  me  to  go — and  I  had  not 
obeyed  him. 

Behind  me,  as  I  ran,  arose  a  shrill  and  terri- 
ble chorus,  a  crashing  of  timbers,  yells  and 
shrieks  of  men,  the  terrific  braying  of  the  An- 
dalusian  mules,  and  above  all,  a  new  sound; 
the  mighty  voice,  the  swelling  roar  of  imprisoned 
waters  taking  possession  of  the  channels  that 
man  had  inadvertently  prepared  for  them.  I 
reached  the  hoisting  cage  so  nearly  too  late  that 
it  had  already  started  on  its  upward  journey, 
when,  seeing  me,  one  of  its  occupants  reached 
down,  caught  both  my  upstretched  hands  and 


36  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

swung  me  up  to  a  place  by  his  side.  It  chanced, 
providentially,  that  the  cage  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  shaft  when  the  inrush  of  waters  came, 
and  it  had  been  held  there  for  a  brief,  danger- 
ous moment  while  the  men  nearest  the  shaft  fled 
to  its  protection.  It  rose  slowly  upward,  not  too 
soon,  for  in  an  incredibly  short  time  an  inky 
flood  rolled  beneath  it;  rolled  beneath,  but 
seemed  to  keep  pace  with  it  as  it  arose.  The 
water  was  coming  up  the  shaft. 


CHAPTER  III 

AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  SHAFT 

RUTLEDGE  was  standing  by  the  windlass  as 
the  cage  drew  slowly  up  into  the  light.  The 
men  sprang  out,  not  forgetting  to  lift  me  out 
with  them,  and  the  superintendent  craned  his 
neck,  looking  down  into  the  black  hole  from 
which  we  had  ascended.  "  Keep  back !"  he 
shouted,  as  some  of  the  men  crowded  about  him. 
"  Keep  back ;  the  water  is  coming  up  the  shaft. 
We'll  soon  have  a  spouting  geyser,  at  this  rate. 
How  many  of  you  are  there  ?"  He  glanced 
over  the  group  and  answered  his  own  question, 
in  an  awed  voice  :  "  Seven — and  the  girl — God 
help  us !  Only  seven  !" 

I  had  been  so  blinded  by  the  fierce  white 
glare  of  sunlight,  following  on  the  darkness  of 
the  shaft,  and  so  dazed  by  the  awful  nature  of 
the  calamity  that  had  befallen  us  that  at  first  I 
comprehended  almost  nothing.  The  events  of 

37 


38  TWO    WYOMING    GIHLS 

the  day  recorded  themselves  automatically  upon 
my  mind,  to  be  clearly  recalled  afterward.  In 
a  numb,  dazed  way  I  saw  a  man  in  a  light  gray 
coat  creep  stiffly  from  the  cage,  last  of  all,  and, 
as  he  staggered  away  up  the  dump,  I  took  a 
step  toward  him,  looked  in  his  face,  and  recoiled 
with  a  wild,  heart-broken  cry. 

The  wearer  of  the  coat  was  old  Joe.  Facing 
around,  I  looked  on  the  rescued  men,  my  heart 
beginning  to  beat  in  slow,  suffocating  throbs — 
my  father  was  not  among  them. 

For  a  moment  I  was  quite  beside  myself. 
Like  one  gone  suddenly  mad,  I  sprang  at  the 
negro,  and,  seizing  his  arm,  shook  it  furiously, 
crying : 

"  Father,  father— where  is  my  father  ?  What 
have  you  done  with  rny  father  ?" 

The  old  man  began  to  whimper,  "  I  ain'  done 
nuttin' !  I  wish't  I  had  !  I  wish't  hit  was  me 
dat  done  gone  to  respec'  dat  ole  Watkin's 
Lateral,  den  I'd  'a'  been  drownded,  an'  he 
wouldn't!" 

"  Watkin's  Lateral  ?"  echoed  one  of  the  men 


AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  SHAFT       39 

who  had  so  narrowly  escaped.  "  Was  Gordon 
in  there  ?"  That's  where  the  water  burst 
through  first.  I  thought  that  some  one  might 
have  gone  in  there  to  test  the  walls,  and  they'd 
given  way." 

"  You  are  probably  right,  Johnson.  Not  but 
what  the  walls  would  have  caved  in,  just  the 
same,  whether  they  were  struck  or  not." 

Little  heed  as  I  paid,  at  the  moment,  to  what 
was  going  on  or  being  said,  yet  it  all  impressed 
itself  upon  my  mind,  to  be  recalled  afterward, 
and  afterward  I  knew  that  this  last  observation 
of  Mr.  Rutledge's  was  intended  to  exonerate 
father  from  any  charge  of  carelessness  in  going 
into  that  place  at  just  that  time.  But  every  em- 
ployee of  the  Gray  Eagle  knew  that  Watkin's 
Lateral — a  long,  diagonal  passage,  with  which 
the  main  tunnel  was  connected  by  a  number  of 
side  extensions — was  a  treacherous  place  in 
which  to  work  at  all  times,  and  must,  of  neces- 
sity, have  been  trebly  so  this  morning.  Loosing 
my  frenzied  hold  of  old  Joe,  I  crouched  to  the 
ground,  while  Joe  sank  down  oil  the  dump, 


40  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

covering  his  face  with  his  gnarled  old  hands. 
"  He  made  me  tuck  an'  put  on  his  coat,  he  did, 
an*  tole  me  fur  t'  start  fur  home ;  I  was  dat 
racked  wid  de  misery  in  my  back !"  he  moaned. 

The  men  were  again  clustering  about  the 
shaft.  I  got  up  and  went  and  stood  beside 
them.  A  hollow  roar  came  up  from  the  depths 
into  which  we  gazed.  The  black  water  had 
risen,  and  risen,  until,  touched  by  a  ray  of  sun- 
light, it  threw  back  at  us  a  sinister,  mocking 
gleam,  as  the  eye  of  a  demon  might.  And 
father  was  down  there  in  that  black  grave ! 
That  was  my  one  coherent  thought  as,  after  the 
first  wild  look,  I  suddenly  grasped  one  of  the 
ropes  of  the  cage  that  still  swung  above  the 
shaft's  mouth,  and  swung  myself  aboard.  My 
reckless  hand  was  ou  the  starting  lever  when  Mr. 
Rutledge,  with  a  cry,  and  a  spring  as  quick  as  my 
own  had  been,  landed  beside  me.  He  snatched 
my  hand  from  the  lever.  "  Are  you  mad  ?"  he 
asked,  sternly,  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  am  going  down  to  my  father ;  I  am  going 
to  bring  him  up !"  I  cried  wildly. 


AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  SHAFT      41 

As  though  the  words  had  held  a  charm  to 
break  the  spell  of  silence,  they  were  followed  by 
a  babel  of  groans,  of  outcries  and  entreaties.  It 
seemed  that  all  the  surface  population  of  Crusoe 
were  already  on  the  spot ;  all,  and  especially  the 
women,  were  wild  to  go  to  the  rescue  of  the 
doomed  men  below.  Doomed !  Ah,  they  were 
past  that  now — all  of  them — all !  It  was  this 
solemn  thought  that  suddenly  calmed  me,  that 
made  me  yield  quietly  to  Rutledge's  guiding 
hand  as  he  drew  me  from  the  cage.  "  There  are 
men  here,"  he  said.  "  Stand  back,  all  of  you 
women."  He  took  his  place  in  the  cage  again ; 
then  he  looked  around  on  the  assembled 
men. 

"  Dick,"  he  said,  signalling  out  a  square-built 
Scotch  miner,  "  stand  beside  the  hoist,  and  do 
exactly  as  I  tell  you." 

"I  wull  that !"  returned  the  miner,  taking 
the  station  indicated. 

"  I'm  going  down  as  far  as  the  water  will 
allow,"  Rutledge  explained.  "  Who  comes  with 
me?"  A  dozen  men  volunteered  instantly. 


42  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

Kutledge  selected  two  who  stepped  into  the 
cage  beside  him. 

"  There  may  be  fire-damp — gas,"  the  Scotch- 
man said,  warniugly. 

"  I  know ;  there  is,  probably  ;  I'll  look  out 
for  that.  Lower  away  !"  Rutledge  had  lighted 
one  of  the  miner's  candles  which  was  suspended 
by  a  cord  from  a  crack  in  the  bottom  of  the 
cage.  We  above  leaned  over  that  dreadful  well 
and  watched  the  tiny  flicker  of  light  as  the  cage 
swung  down  and  down  toward  the  sinister  eye 
that  came  steadily  up  as  it  went  down.  The 
tiny  flame  burned  bravely  for  a  space,  then  it 
went  out  as  suddenly  as  if  snuffed  out  by  in- 
visible fingers  while  the  water  below  moved  and 
sparkled  as  it  might  have  done  if  the  owner  of 
the  demoniac  eye  had  laughed.  "  Choke  damp  !" 
said  the  Scotch  miner  succinctly, and  began  hoist- 
ing up. 

I  was  crouching  on  the  ground  with  my  face 
hidden  on  Joe's  shoulder  when  the  cage  came 
up  again.  The  men  sprang  out  silently,  and  the 
hush  on  the  waiting  throng  seemed  to  deepen. 


AT  THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  SHAFT      43 

"  We  will  set  the  pumps  at  work  as  soon  as  it 
can  be  done ;  that  is  the  only  thing  left  for  us 
to  do,"  I  heard  Rutledge  say,  and  his  voice 
sounded  far  away  to  my  reeling  senses  as  it 
might  have  sounded  had  I  heard  it  in  some 
dreadful  vision  of  the  night.  Then  he  came 
and  knelt  down  beside  me ;  he  took  my  hands 
in  a  close  grasp.  "  Go  home,  Leslie,"  he  said, 
"  go  home  and  do  not  come  back.  We  will  do 
all  that  can  be  done." 

Not  many  hours  thereafter  the  pumps  were  at 
work,  lifting  the  water  out  of  the  mine — a  Her- 
culean task,  but  not  so  long  a  one,  or  so  hope- 
less, as  had  been  anticipated  by  many.  Soon 
fresh  mounds  of  earth  began  to  appear  in  the 
lonely  little  hillside  cemetery  ;  mounds  beneath 
which  the  rescued  bodies  of  the  drowned  miners 
were  reverently  laid.  Among  them  was  one 
where  father  lay  peacefully  sleeping  by  mother's 
side,  and  leaving  him  there  at  rest,  we  turned 
sadly  away  to  take  up  again  the  dreary  routine 
of  our  every-day  life. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A    PLOT    FOILED 

IT  was  a  full  month  after  the  mine  accident, 
and  things  had  settled  hack  as  nearly  into  the 
old  routine  as  was  possible  with  the  head  of  the 
household  gone.  I  doubt  if  Jessie  and  I  could 
have  carried  the  burden  of  responsibility  that 
now  fell  upon  our  unaccustomed  shoulders  had 
it  not  been  for  Joe.  The  day  after  father's 
funeral  he  walked  quietly  into  the  kitchen  with 
the  announcement : 

"  I'se  come  ter  stay,  chillen !  "VVhar  yo' 
gwine  want  me  ter  drap  dis  bun'le?" 

The  bundle  was  done  up  in  a  handkerchief — 
not  a  large  one  at  that — and  it  contained  all  of 
Joe's  worldly  possessions.  Jessie  gave  him  the 
little  bed-room  off  the  kitchen,  and  there  Joe 
established  himself,  to  our  great  satisfaction. 
He  was  not  less  reticent  than  usual,  but  there 
was  immense  comfort  to  us,  even  in  Joe's  silence. 
44 


A    PLOT    FOILED  45 

The  only  explanation  that  he  ever  gave  as  to  his 
intentions  was  contained  in  the  brief  declaration  : 

"Yo's  110  'casion  fur  t'  worry  yo'se'ves  no 
mo',  chillen ;  I'se  come  ter  tek  holt." 

And  take  hold  he  did.  Early  and  late  the 
faithful  black  hands  were  toiling  for  the  chil- 
dren of  the  man  whom  he  had  so  devotedly  loved. 

On  this  particular  morning  Jessie  and  I  were 
seated  in  the  kitchen  busily  employed  in  doing 
some  much-needed  mending,  when  I  dropped 
my  work  and  said  to  Jessie :  "  I  believe  some- 
thing is  taking  the  chickens,  Jessie." 

Jessie  glanced  at  the  garment  that  I  had  let 
fall,  a  torn  little  dress  of  Ralph's.  "  Do  you  ?" 
she  said. 

"  Yes ;  I'm  sure  there  are  not  so  many  as 
there  should  be." 

"  Don't  you  count  them  every  night  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do;  but  they  should  be  counted 
oftener.  At  mid-day,  too,  I  should  say."  I 
submitted  this  proposition  deferentially,  but 
with  a  covert  glance  at  the  clock ;  it  was  nearly 
twelve,  and  I  did  so  dislike  mending. 


46  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"  Very  well,"  Jessie  said,  "  count  them  a  dozen 
times  a  day  if  you  think  best,  of  course." 

The  elation  with  which  I  arose  to  comply 
with  this  generous  permission  was  tempered 
somewhat  by  a  little  haunting  sense  of  mean- 
ness. "  Still,"  I  reasoned,  "  when  one's  home 
depends  on  such  things  as  cats,  dogs,  and  chick- 
ens, one  cannot  take  account  of  stock  too  often. 
Besides,  Jessie  likes  to  mend,  at  least  I've  never 
heard  her  say  she  does  not,  but  I  have  heard  her 
say  that  she  doesn't  like  to  tend  poultry." 

When  I  re-entered  the  house,  after  conscien- 
tiously enumerating  every  pair  of  yellow  legs 
on  the  place,  and  finding,  somewhat  to  my 
chagrin,  that  the  tally  was  the  same  as  that  of 
the  previous  evening,  I  found  Jessie  sitting  at 
the  table  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 
Afraid  that  she  was  crying  I  at  first  pretended 
not  to  notice.  We  had  more  than  enough 
cause  for  tears.  I  picked  up  the  discarded  little 
dress  and,  in  a  spasm  of  repentance,  murmured 
ostensibly  toRilph,  who  was  playing  near  the 
table,  but  really  for  Jessie's  benefit :  "  Sister  is 


A    PLOT    FOILED  47 

going  to  mend  the  pretty  blouse  that  you  tore 
on  the  oak  bush  after  she  gets  this  dress 
done." 

"  'En  w'en  oo'  puts  it  on  me,  me  do  in  'e  oak 
bush  an'  tear  it  adain,"  the  child  declared,  cheer- 
fully. 

"  You  naughty  boy  !" 

"  'Es ;  me  notty  boy,"  with  which  announce- 
ment he  went  and  leaned  against  Jessie's  knees. 
Jessie  looked  up ;  she  was  not  crying,  but  her 
face  was  haggard  with  pain. 

"  I've  got  a  dreadful  toothache,"  she  said,  and 
then  I  remembered  that  she  had  been  very  rest- 
less during  the  night.  "  I'm  afraid  I  shall  know 
no  peace  until  it  is  out,"  Jessie  went  on,  "  and 
it's  half  a  day's  journey  to  a  dentist." 

"  And  Joe  has  taken  both  the  horses  to  go  up 
into  the  Jerusalem  settlement  after  that  seed- 
corn,  and  he  can't  get  back  before  to-morrow 
night !"  I  exclaimed,  in  consternation.  As  I 
sat  looking  at  her  with  eyes  more  tearful  than 
her  own  there  came  to  our  ears  the  welcome 
sound  of  wheels,  and  a  wagon  stopped  at  the 


48  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

gate.  I  sprang  up  and  ran  to  the  door,  with 
some  faint  hope,  for  the  moment,  that  Joe 
had  returned.  It  was  not  Joe  who  was  sitting 
immovable  on  the  seat  of  the  light  wagon  that 
was  drawn  up  before  the  gate,  but  my  astonish- 
ment would  not  have  been  so  great  if  it  had 
been.  The  small,  bronzed-faced,  wiry  individual 
who  sat  still,  calmly  returning  my  inquiring 
gaze  was  none  other  than  our  persevering  en- 
emy, Mr.  Jacob  Horton.  I  did  not  fancy  our 
caller,  but  thinking  that  he  would  not  have 
called  if  he  had  not  some  reason  for  so  doing, 
I  walked  out  and  down  the  path  toward  him, 
saying,  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Horton." 

"  Mornin',  Miss  Leslie.     Folks  all  well  ?" 

"  Not  very  well ;  at  least,  Jessie  isn't.  She's 
got  a  dreadful  toothache." 

"  Toothache,  eh  ?  That's  bad.  Nothin'  like 
yankin'  out  fur  an  achin'  tooth.  That's  my  ex- 
perience, and  you  may  pass  it  along  to  Miss  Jes- 
sie for  what  it's  worth." 

"  I  don't  know  what  good  it  will  do  her  if  I 
do,"  I  replied,  rather  irritably,  for  Jessie  was 


A    PLOT    FOILED  49 

sobbing  now,  and  the  sound  hurt  me  almost  as 
much  as  a  physical  pain  could  have  done. 

"  Why,  the  good  it  will  do  is  that  that  old 
nigger  of  yours — Joe,  you  call  him — will  tackle 
up,  she'll  tie  on  her  bunnet,  hop  into  the  wagon, 
and  away  for  Dr.  Green's  office  in  Antonita, 
and  she'll  set  as  still  as  a  mouse  while  the  doc- 
tor yanks  out  that  tooth ;  that's  the  good  it'll 
do." 

"  Yes,  that  might  all  be  if  Joe  wasn't  away 
with  the  team." 

"  Wai',  that  does  rather  spoil  my  program. 
Goin'  to  be  gone  all  day,  is  he  ?" 

"  Yes ;  maybe  for  two  or  three  days.  He's 
gone  up  to  the  Archer  settlement  on  the  Jeru- 
salem trail." 

"Oh,  has  he?    Wai',  now!" 

Mr.  Horton  had  been  sitting  all  this  time 
with  the  reins  in  one  hand,  his  hat  in  the  other. 
He  now  replaced  the  hat  on  his  head  and  stood 
up.  He  remained  standing  so,  motionless,  for 
more  than  a  minute,  gazing  steadfastly  at  his 
horses'  ears,  while  his  brow  puckered  and  his 


50  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

small  eyes  narrowed  like  those  of  a  person  in 
deep  thought.  Finally  he  exclaimed : 

"  Say,  I  tell  you  how  we'll  fix  it.  You  all 
get  in  here  with  me  and  come  over  to  my  house. 
Maria,  she'll  be  sure  to  think  of  something  to 
ease  that  tooth  the  minute  she  claps  eyes  on  ye ; 
then,  in  the  mornin',  she  or  I'll  take  ye  over  to 
the  doctor's  office,  and  bring  ye  home  afterward. 
Hey,  what  do  you  say,  Miss  Jessie  ?"  for  Jessie 
had  by  this  time  come  out  of  the  gate,  with 
Ralph  clinging  to  her  hand. 

Jessie,  the  pain  of  her  aching  tooth  dulled  for 
the  moment  by  sheer  amazement,  said  that  he 
was  very  kind.  She  said  it  almost  timidly.  We 
had  had  so  little  reason  hitherto  to  look  for 
any  neighborly  kindness  at  Mr.  Horton's 
hands. 

"Then  ye'll  go?"  Mr.  Horton  insisted. 

Jessie  looked  inquiringly  at  me,  Her  face 
was  swollen  and  her  eyes  red  with  crying. 

"Yes,  Jessie,  do  go.  There's  no  knowing 
when  Joe  will  be  back,  and  you — " 

"  Why,  you'd  better  all  come,"  Mr.  Horton 


A    PLOT    FOILED  51 

interposed  again.  "  There's  two  seats  in  the 
wagon — plenty  of  room.  Here,  where's  the 
little  shaver's  hat  ?  Get  your  hat  and  climb  in 
here,  youngster." 

Ralph,  who  was  enterprising  and  fearless, 
obeyed  without  protest.  Peremptorily  declin- 
ing Mr.  Horton's  invitation  to  sit  with  him,  he 
took  his  station  on  the  back  seat,  and  from  that 
vantage  urged  his  sisters  to  make  haste. 

"  Come,  'Essie,  us  yeady." 

Jessie  ran  in  and  got  her  hat,  tossed  her  old 
coat  over  her  shoulders  without  stopping  to  put 
her  arms  in  the  sleeves,  and,  by  aid  of  the 
wheel,  mounted  to  the  seat  beside  Ralph.  I, 
too,  had  put  on  my  hat,  but  waited  to  secure  the 
windows,  and  then  to  get  the  door-key.  Mr. 
Horton,  sitting  silent  on  the  front  seat,  observed 
my  proceedings  with  interest ;  "  You're  awful 
careful,  ain't  ye  ?"  he  said,  at  length,  and,  in 
spite  of  his  friendliness,  it  seemed  to  my  sensi- 
tive fancy  that  there  was  a  sneer  in  his  voice. 
However,  that  did  not  greatly  trouble  me,  for, 
from  my  slight  speaking  acquaintance  with  him 


52  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

before  this,  I  had  come  to  believe  that  he  never 
spoke  without  one,  so  I  replied,  cheerfully : 

"  Yes  ;  I  guess  I  am  careful  enough." 

I  had  locked  the  door,  and  was  approaching 
the  wagon  when  Mr.  Horton  asked : 

"Where's  your  dog — you've  got  one, ain't  ye?" 

"Guard?   Yes,  he's  with  Joe.     Why?" 

I  stopped  short  as  I  suddenly  realized  what 
Joe's  absence  for  the  night  meant. 

"  Why,  I  can't  go,  Jessie ;  I  shall  have  to 
inilk  both  the  cows  to-night !" 

"  Oh,  that's  true !"  groaned  Jessie.  She 
started  up. 

"  I'm  sorry  we  have  detained  you  at  all,  Mr. 
Horton,  but  Leslie  can't  stay  here  alone  all 
night,  and  the  cows  must  be  milked.  Come, 
Ralph,  we  must  get  out." 

As  Ralph  slid  obediently  off  his  seat,  Mr. 
Horton  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm.  Ralph 
wriggled  himself  loose,  looking  defiant. 

"  Wait !"  Mr.  Horton  urged.  "  It's  too  bad 
for  you  to  have  to  keep  on  sufferin'  all  night, 
Miss  Jessie,  when  you  might  be  helped." 


A    PLOT    FOILED  53 

"  Oh,  I  know  it !"  Jessie  moaned,  sinking 
back  on  the  seat  and  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

"  I've  never  had  the  toothache  myself,  but  I 
know  it  must  be  dreadful.  By  the  way,  where 
are  the  cows?"  Mr.  Horton  stood  up  and 
looked  around  as  if  he  might  spy  them  in  the 
tree-tops  or  anywhere.  "I  do'no — I  wisht' 
'twas  so  I  could  spend  the  time — "  he  muttered 
reflectively.  Then,  suddenly  :  "  How  long  will 
it  take  ye  to  milk  'em  ?  I  might  wait." 

"  Oh,  no !  No  indeed !  I  couldn't  think  of 
asking  you  to  do  that  on  my  account !"  I  ex- 
claimed, feeling  very  grateful,  nevertheless,  for 
the  interest  he  displayed.  "  The  cows  haven't 
come  up  yet ;  besides,  it  would  do  no  good  to 
milk  them  now,  at  noon,  for  this  evening,"  I 
explained,  although  Mr.  Horton,  being  a  cattle 
man,  should  have  known  that  without  my  tell- 
ing him. 

"  I've  thought  what  I  can  do,"  I  said,  after  a 
moment.  "You  and  Ralph  go  with  Mr. 
Horton,  Jessie,  and  after  the  chores  are  done 


54  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

this  evening  I'll  slip  over  to  Crusoe  to  Mrs. 
Riley's."  Mrs.  Riley  being  the  kindly  Irish- 
woman with  whom  old  Joe  usually  boarded 
when  working  in  the  mines. 

"That's  a  good  plan,"  Jessie  said.  "I 
couldn't  bear  to  leave  you  here  alone  all  night." 

Mr.  Horton  had  seemed  considerably  non- 
plussed when  he  found  that  I  was  not  coming 
with  him ;  he  now  brightened  visibly,  remark- 
ing :  "  Yes,  you  can  do  that ;  lonesome  work 
for  a  young  gal  stayiu'  alone  all  night ;  no  tellin' 
what  might  happen,"  and  then,  with  that 
curious  fatality  that  so  often  induces  people  to 
say  exactly  the  wrong  thing  for  their  purpose, 
he  added :  "  I  should  a'  thought  your  nigger 
would  a'  left  the  dog  here  to  purtect  you  young 
women  whilst  he  was  gone.  But  niggers  is  al- 
ways thoughtless,  and  yourn  is  no  exception." 

Inwardly  resenting  both  the  tone  and  words, 
I  instantly  resolved,  in  a  spirit  of  loyalty  to 
Joe,  to  remain  where  I  was  that  night.  Why 
should  I  not,  indeed  ?  I  had  never  spent  a  night 
alone  in  my  life,  but  I  would  let  Mr.  Horton 


A    PLOT    FOILED  55 

know  that  I  was  not  afraid  to  do  it — I  would 
let  him  know  afterward — just  at  present  I 
nodded  my  head  in  apparent  acquiscence  with 
his  views,  and  bidding  good-by  to  the  trio, 
walked  away  toward  the  corral,  intent  on  be- 
guiling them  into  the  belief,  should  they  look 
back,  that  I  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  cows  in  order  that  I  might  the  sooner  get 
away  myself.  In  the  silence  that  followed  upon 
the  last  faint  rumble  of  their  disappearing 
wheels  I  thought  of  something  else.  Something 
that  made  my  blood  run  cold  with  a  sickening 
apprehension  of  the  calamity  that  had  so  nearly 
befallen  us.  A  moment  more  and,  the  numb  fit 
of  terror  passed,  I  was  dancing  down  the  corral 
path,  saying  jubilantly  to  myself:  "Oh,  ho, 
Mr.  Horton!  But  it  isn't  left  alone!  The 
homestead  isn't  left  alone.  I'm  here,  I'm  here  !" 
Jessie  was  half  crazed  with  pain,  no  wonder 
that  she  had  forgotten,  but  why  should  it  have 
escaped  my  mind,  until  almost  too  late,  that, 
under  the  homestead  laws,  the  laws  by  which 
we  hoped  to  obtain  a  title  to  this  beautiful  valley 


56  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

ranch,  the  house  must  not  be  left  untenanted  for 
a  single  night,  until  the  deed  to  it  was  in  the 
claimant's  possession.  We  had  heard  so  much 
about  the  homestead  laws  from  poor  father  that 
we  accounted  ourselves  quite  able  to  comply  with 
them  all — yet — how  nearly  we  had  come  to 
leaving  the  house  vacant  that  night! 

And  it  was  Mr.  Horton,  of  all  others,  who 
had  urged  us  to  do  so,  and  he  understood  the 
homestead  laws ;  no  one  better. 

The  thought  of  our  narrow  escape  was  still 
with  me  when,  towards  evening,  I  heard  the 
tinkle  of  old  Cleo's  bell,  coming  musically  down 
the  mountain  side,  and  went  out  to  the  corral  to 
let  down  the  bars.  "  After  all,"  I  thought,  look- 
ing back  at  the  house  as  I  stood  waiting  by  the 
bars,  "  it  might  not  have  been  a  complete  success 
for  Mr.  Horton  if  he  had  got  us  all  away  from 
home  for  the  night.  The  house  and  furniture 
would  be  pretty  good  proof  to  the  land  agent  of 
the  honesty  of  our  intentions." 


CHAPTEE  V 

AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE 

I  HAD  never  been  left  entirely  without  human 
companionship  before,  not  even  for  a  night,  and 
I  soon  began  to  wonder  at  the  amount  of  lone- 
liness that  can  be  compressed  into  a  few  hours. 
Before  the  afternoon  was  half  spent  I  was  men- 
tally reviewing  the  history  of  Robinson  Crusoe, 
and  was  feeling  an  intense  sympathy  for  that 
resourceful  castaway. 

I  lingered  over  my  evening  tasks,  and,  sooner 
than  seemed  possible,  dusk  came  and  night  was 
at  hand,  so  at  last  I  reluctantly  closed  and  made 
fast  the  kitchen  door.  Reluctantly,  for  to- 
night, this  common  and  necessary  precaution 
seemed,  somehow,  to  cut  me  adrift  from  all 
chance  of  human  aid,  and  by  this  time  my  mind 
was  running  on  wild  tales  of  bandits,  of  lonely 
camps,  and  the  far  sweep  of  the  cattle  ranges 
where,  in  darkened  hollow  or  at  the  foot  of 

57 


58  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

shadowy  buttes,  great  gray  wolves  lay  in  wait 
for  their  midnight  prey,  indifferent  as  to  whether 
the  prey  consisted  of  cattle  or  cattleman. 

Still,  I  am  sure  that  I  was  not  really  cow- 
ardly ;  it  was  only  the  unusual  situation  that  set 
me  thinking  of  these  things.  Father's  light 
rifle  hung  in  its  accustomed  place  over  the 
kitchen  fireplace,  and,  as  a  last  precaution,  I  took 
it  down,  and,  after  ascertaining  that  it  was  prop- 
erly loaded,  put  it  near  the  head  of  the  bed, 
within  reach  of  my  hand.  To  be  expert  with 
firearms  is  almost  a  matter  of  course  for  girls 
on  Western  ranches,  and  I  was  an  unusually 
good  marksman.  As  it  would,  to  my  fancy,  but 
intensify  the  emptiness  and  loneliness  of  the 
house  if  I  were  to  light  a  lamp,  I  decided  to  go 
straight  to  bed  without  a  light,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, forget  my  troubles  in  sleep.  But  I  had 
hardly  reached  this  sensible  conclusion  when  I 
became  convinced  that  I  was  thirsty.  It  is  not 
in  the  least  probable  that  I  should  have  even 
thought  of  needing  a  drink  if  it  had  not  sud- 
denly occurred  to  me  that  there  was  no  water  in 


AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE  59 

the  house.  I  had  used  it  all,  and  had  neglected 
to  fill  the  pail  again.  There  is  no  surer  pro- 
vocative of  thirst  than  the  knowledge  that  there 
is  no  water  to  be  had,  and,  as  I  thought  the 
matter  over,  my  lips  grew  dry  and  my  throat 
parched.  It  was  unendurable.  In  desperation 
I  slipped  on  the  shoes  that  I  had  just  taken  off, 
and,  taking  the  empty  pail  from  the  kitchen 
sink,  unlocked  the  door  and  made  a  hur- 
ried trip  to  the  spring,  a  few  rods  west  of  the 
house. 

Returning  with  a  brimming  pailful,  and  dis- 
daining to  acknowledge,  even  to  myself,  that 
my  knees  were  shaking,  I  set  the  pail  on  a 
chair  by  the  bed-room  window.  I  was  deter- 
mined to  have  water  close  at  hand,  in  case  my 
thirst  became  torturing  during  the  night.  The 
cat  was  mewing  plaintively  on  the  kitchen  door- 
step. I  re-opened  the  door  and  let  her  in,  then, 
re-locked  the  door  and,  disrobing,  crept  quickly 
into  bed.  Curled  down  snugly  under  the 
blankets  I  was  almost  dozing  when  a  sudden 
recollection  caused  me  to  laugh  softly  to  myself, 


60  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

there  in  the  darkness.  In  spite  of  my  terrible 
thirst  I  had  entirely  forgotten  to  take  a  drink 
after  the  water  was  at  hand.  "  I'll  get  up  after 
a  while  if  I  find  that  I  can't  get  along  without 
it,"  I  told  myself,  sleepily,  end  with  the  sense 
of  amusement  still  upon  me,  I  was  far  away 
into  dreamland. 

I  suppose  that  very  few  people  have  escaped 
the  unpleasant,  breathless  sensation  of  awaken- 
ing suddenly  and  completely  under  the  spell  of 
some  unknown  challenge,  a  warning  of  some  im- 
pending danger  passed  by  the  alert  mind  to  the 
slumbering  senses  of  the  body.  I  had  slept  far 
into  the  night  when  I  awoke,  seemingly  without 
cause,  to  find  myself  sitting  upright  in  bed, 
listening  intently.  For  a  moment  I  heard 
nothing  but  the  soft  padded  foot-fall  of  the  cat 
as,  stealing  from  her  place  on  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
she  moved  restlessly  about  the  room.  "  It  must 
have  been  her  springing  off  the  bed  that  awoke 
me,"  I  thought,  nestling  back  into  the  pillows 
aga.in.  I  closed  my  eyes,  but  opened  them 
quickly  as  a  soft  rustling  outside  of,  and  almost 


AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE  61 

directly  underneath  the  bed-room  window,  came 
to  my  ears. 

The  window-shade  was  pulled  down,  but  it 
was  hung  several  inches  below  the  top  of  the 
window,  which  had  been  left  open  for  ventila- 
tion. Through  this  uncurtained  space  the 
moonlight  streamed  into  the  room ;  by  its  light 
I  saw  the  cat  retreating  into  a  corner  farthest 
from  the  window,  her  tail  swelled  out  like  that 
of  a  fox,  her  hair  bristling,  and  her  yellow  eyes 
glaring  vindictively.  She  disliked  strangers, 
and  commonly  resented  their  presence  in  just 
this  manner.  I  wondered,  as  my  eyes  followed 
the  cat's  movements  with  growing  apprehension, 
if  she  would  act  this  way  because  of  the  vicinity 
of  any  large  prowling  animal.  I  was  sure  now, 
as  I  crouched  tremblingly  under  the  blankets, 
that  the  increasing  noise  that  I  heard  was  not 
made  by  any  harmless  midnight  prowler.  If  it 
had  been,  the  cat,  being  a  great  hunter,  would 
have  shown  an  eager  desire  to  get  outside  the 
window,  instead  of  away  from  it.  Accustomed 
to  the  knowledge  that  there  were  wild  animals 


62  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

in  plenty  up  on  the  mountain  slopes  and  in  the 
encircling  forests  above  us,  and  having  abundant 
reason  to  know  that  they  often  made  stealthy 
visits  to  the  valley  settlements  at  night,  I  soon 
reasoned  myself  into  quietude.  Whatever  the 
beast  might  be,  I  was  in  no  personal  danger ; 
the  cows  were  safe  in  the  high- walled  corral,  and 
the  poultry-house  securely  locked.  Reassured, 
as  I  recalled  these  facts,  I  did  not  get  up  to 
make  any  investigation  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
noise.  "  If  it's  a  bear,  it  isn't  mine,"  I  told 
myself,  drowsily ;  "  as  Joe  says,  '  I  am'  los'  no 
bear  'roun'  yer.' " 

I  was  half  asleep  again  when  a  curious  sensa- 
tion, as  of  a  bright  light  playing  over  my  closed 
eyelids  caused  me  to  open  them  suddenly.  Then 
I  bounded  out  of  bed,  uttering  a  scream  that 
might,  I  should  think,  have  been  heard  a  mile. 
A  broad  sheet  of  yellow  flame  was  streaming  up 
beside  the  house  and  over  the  uncurtained 
window  space.  Obeying  an  impulse  as  irre- 
sponsible as  the  one  that  had  caused  that  useless 
scream,  I  seized  the  loaded  rifle  at  my  bedside, 


AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE  63 

and  sent  a  bullet  whistling  and  crashing  through 
the  window  panes.  The  impression  that  some 
prowling  wild  animal  was  about  was  probably 
still  strong  upon  me,  and,  in  any  case,  the  shot 
was  not  without  effect.  My  shriek  and  the  report 
of  the  rifle  rang  out  almost  at  the  same  instant. 
Following  them  came  a  cry,  a  smothered  oath, 
and  the  sound  of  running  footsteps.  Throwing 
down  the  yet  smoking  gun,  I  ran  to  the  window, 
tore  down  the  obstructing  shade  with  one  sweep 
of  my  impatient  hand,  and  leaned  forward, 
scanning  the  hillside.  The  flames  reached  to- 
ward me  greedily  through  the  opening  that  my 
bullet  had  made,  but,  although  their  hot  breath 
half  blinded  me,  I  saw  a  man  running  swiftly 
for  the  shelter  of  the  hillside  pines.  I  glanced 
toward  the  rifle — I  was  a  good  shot,  then. 
"Thou  shalt  not  kill,"  I  said  aloud,  but  it  had 
occurred  to  me  also,  that  the  gun  was  not  loaded. 
An  instant  more  and  I  was  throwing  water  on 
the  fire  from  the  pailful  beside  the  window  ledge. 
After  all,  as  I  soon  found,  the  bullet  had 
done  more  apparent  harm  than  the  fire,  for 


64  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

the  heap  of  inflammable  rubbish  underneath 
the  window  was  quickly  drenched  and  the  fire 
extinguished.  To  make  all  doubly  secure,  how- 
ever, I  reloaded  the  gun  and  with  that  faithful 
friend  in  hand  brought  water  and  poured  over 
the  rubbish  until  it  ceased  even  to  smoke.  The 
heap  was  composed  of  pine  needles,  pine  cones, 
and  resinous  pitch  pine,  and  once  fairly  started 
would  have  set  the  house  on  fire,  past  all  saving, 
in  a  very  short  time.  When  the  blackened  pile 
was  so  thoroughly  drenched  that  I  could  poke 
around  in  the  ashes  with  my  bare  hands  I  gave 
up  pouring  water  on  it,  went  back  into  the 
house,  locked  the  door,  tacked  a  heavy  blanket 
up  over  the  dismantled  window,  and,  shivering 
with  cold  and  excitement,  again  crept  into  bed. 
As  I  lay  with  my  finger  on  the  trigger  of  the 
rifle,  with  its  muzzle  trained  on  the  window,  I 
was  surer  of  nothing  than  that  there  was  no 
more  sleep  for  me  that  night.  But,  soothed  by 
the  sensation  of  returning  warmth,  and  by  the 
feeling  of  security  that  the  touch  of  the  rifle 
gave,  I  closed  my  eyes — not  to  sleep,  but  the 


AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE  65 

better  to  think.     Sleep !  I  could  not  sleep.    Nev- 
ertheless— 

The  sunlight  was  pouring  into  the  adjoining 
room  when  I  again  opened  niy  eyes.  Night 
with  its  terrors  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  I 
heard  the  imprisoned  cows  lowing  for  their  milk- 
maid and  realized  with  a  pang  of  self-reproach 
that  I  had  slept  later  than  I  ought.  Sitting  up 
in  bed  I  looked  around,  blinking  sleepily.  The 
light  from  the  window  was  effectually  excluded 
by  the  thick  blanket,  and  my  slumber  had  been 
so  peaceful  that  I  had  scarcely  stirred ;  my  re- 
laxed hand  had  merely  dropped  away  from  the 
trigger  of  the  rifle  lying  beside  me.  The  cat 
was  in  her  old  place  at  my  feet,  and  I  smiled  to 
see  her  trying  to  thrust  an  inquisitive  paw  into 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  Finding  the  hole  too 
small  for  that  purpose  she  wriggled  around 
lazily  until  she  had  brought  an  eye  to  bear  on 
the  cavity  that  she  seemed  to  suspect  might 
contain  a  mouse.  When  I  had  dressed  and  gone 
outside  I  was  filled  with  wonder  at  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  escape  that  the  house  had  had. 


66  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

There  had  been  no  rain  for  weeks ;  scarcely  a 
drop,  indeed,  since  the  dreadful  accident  that 
had  left  us  fatherless — and  everything  was  as 
dry  as  tinder.  Once  started,  a  fire  would  have 
devastated  the  whole  valley.  In  the  retrospect 
the  danger  that  we  had  escaped  seemed  even 
more  terrifying  than  in  the  hurry  and  excite- 
ment of  the  fire  itself.  And — how  came  that 
heap  of  combustible  stuff  under  the  window  ? 
Who  was  that  man  whom  I  had  seen  running  up 
the  hillside  as  if  pursued  by  the  furies  ? 

The  morning's  chores  done,  I  procured  broom 
and  rake  and  set  about  clearing  away  the  un- 
sightly heap  from  under  the  window.  I  was 
raking  industriously,  when  my  eye  was  suddenly 
attracted  by  a  small  glittering  object  near  the 
outer  edge  of  the  pile.  Stooping,  I  picked  it 
up.  It  lay  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand,  and  I 
stood  looking  at  it  for  a  long,  long  time.  "  All 
things  come  to  him  who  waits."  The  origin  of 
the  fire  was  no  longer  a  mystery,  but  there  were 
other  things.  We  had  suffered  nearly  five  years 
of  petty,  relentless  persecution,  and  had  never, 


AN    EXCITING    EXPERIENCE  67 

never  by  any  chance,  been  able  to  produce  any 
direct  evidence  against  our  enemy.  The  wind 
sweeping  through  the  pine  boughs  on  the  hillside 
above  had,  to  my  fancy,  the  sound  that  a  great 
fire  makes ;  a  great  fire  that,  rioting  unchecked, 
leaves  suffering  and  death  in  its  wake.  "  Much 
harm  would  have  been  done  to  others  besides  us 
if  I  had  not  been  here  to  put  the  fire  out,"  I 
thought,  gravely  regarding  the  thing  in  my 
hand.  "  Much  harm  ;  and  the  law  punishes  any 
one  convicted  of  setting  a  fire,  here  in  the 
mountains  in  a  dry  time,  very  severely."  Then 
I  went  into  the  house  to  put  the  glittering  trifle 
safely  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  VISIT   FROM    MRS.  HORTON 

I  HAD  not  looked  for  Jessie  and  Ralph 
to  return  before  night,  but  the  article  that  I 
had  found  was  scarcely  hidden  when,  chancing 
to  glance  down  the  road,  I  saw  Mr.  Horton's 
team,  with  the  light  wagon  attached,  trotting 
briskly  toward  the  house. 

Only  Jessie,  Ralph,  and  Mrs.  Horton  were  in 
the  wagon,  and  it  startled  me  at  first  to  observe 
that  Ralph  was  driving.  My  astonishment 
changed  to  amusement  as  they  drew  nearer,  and 
I  saw  that  Mrs.  Horton's  capable  hands  held  a 
firm  grip  of  the  lines,  just  far  enough  behind 
Ralph's  not  to  deprive  him  of  the  glory  of  the 
idea  that  he  was  doing  all  the  driving. 

"  'Oo !  'oo,  dere !"  he  called  imperiously,  bring- 
ing the  horses — with  Mrs.  Horton's  help — to  a 
standstill  before  the  gate.  Jessie  sprang  out 
and  turned  to  lift  the  little  driver  to  the  ground, 
68 


A    VISIT    FROM    MRS.    HORTON  69 

while  we  all  began  talking  at  once.  But 
our  mutual  torrent  of  questions  was  abruptly 
checked  by  the  contumacious  conduct  of  that 
same  small  driver,  who  deeply  resented  Jessie's 
invitation  to  him  to  come  off  his  perch. 
"  Me  is  doin'  tek  care  of  'e  'orses,"  he  declared, 
scowling  defiance  at  his  sister.  "  Mis  'Orton,  'oo 
dit  out  if  'oo  p'ease !" 

No  better  description  of  Mrs.  Horton  could 
be  given  than  to  say  that  she  was  all  that  her 
husband  was  not — the  dearest  soul.  She  laughed 
as  she  surveyed  the  conceited  little  fellow  and 
then  said  seriously :  "  How  in  the  world  am  I 
to  get  out  if  you  don't  get  out  first  and  help  me 
down?" 

Ralph  was  unprepared  for  this  emergency, 
but  the  objection  appeared  to  him  reasonable ; 
he  slid  slowly  off  the  seat — lie  was  so  short  that 
it  seemed  a  long  time  before  his  tiny  toes  touched 
the  bottom  of  the  wagon-box — and  began  climb- 
ing laboriously  down,  over  the  wheel.  When 
he  had  at  length  reached  the  ground  Mrs.  Hor- 
ton stood  up  and  with  the  reins  held  securely  in 


70  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

one  hand  she  gained  the  hub  of  the  near  wheel. 
From  that  vantage  she  reached  down  to  meet 
Ralph's  upstretched  mite  of  a  hand,  and  so  was 
gallantly  assisted  to  alight. 

To  my  delight  Mrs.  Hortou  announced  that 
she  had  come  to  spend  the  day  with  us.  She 
led  the  team  to  the  barn  and  we  proceeded  to 
unharness  them  without  assistance  from  their 
late  driver,  who  had  already  forgotten  his  inten- 
tion and  his  dignity  in  a  romp  with  his  friend 
and  playmate,  the  cat. 

"  I  suppose  your  tooth  stopped  aching  and  you 
decided  not  to  have  it  out,"  I  said  to  Jessie,  as 
we  were  helping  Mrs.  Horton. 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Horton  explained,  cheerfully ; 
"  by  the  best  of  luck,  Dr.  Green  chanced  to  be 
passing  our  house  last  night,  soon  after  Jake 
brought  Jessie.  We  called  him  in,  and  as  he  had 
his  forceps — toothers,  my  little  brother  used  to 
call  them — with  him,  he  had  that  aching  tooth 
out  in  no  time." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  hurt  you  dreadfully,  didn't  it, 
Jessie  ?"  I  inquired,  sympathetically. 


A    VISIT    FKOM    MRS.    HOKTON  71 

"  Not  so  much  as  I  thought  it  would ;  not  so 
much  as  the  aching  did,"  Jessie  replied.  "People 
are  so  cowardly  about  such  things !"  she  added, 
and  the  sly  look  that  Mrs.  Horton  bestowed  on 
Jessie's  sister  behind  her  back,  awoke  a  suspicion 
in  my  mind  that,  perhaps,  Jessie  herself  had  be- 
trayed some  shrinking  dread  before  the  operation 
took  place. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  didn't  have  to  go 
clear  over  to  Antonito,"  I  said.  "  You  wouldn't 
have  been  home  for  hours  yet,  and  Mrs.  Horton 
wouldn't  have  been  making  us  a  visit." 

"And  Mrs.  Horton  would  a  good  deal  rather 
be  making  you  a  visit  than  driving  these  horses 
to  Antonito,  I  can  tell  you!"  said  that  lady. 
"  They're  quiet  as  lambs  until  it  comes  to  cars 
and  engines,  and  the  sight  of  them  scares  them 
both  nigh  to  death,  and  the  railway  track  runs 
along  right  beside  the  highway  for  a  mile  before 
you  get  into  Antonito.  I'd  have  been  obliged  to 
drive  Jessie  over,  for  the  hired  man  is  gone,  and 
Mr.  Horton  met  with  an  accident  to  one  of 
his  hands  last  night,  and  couldn't  have  driven." 


72  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  An  accident !  How  did  it  happen  ?"  I  in- 
quired, with  feigned  carelessness. 

"  Why,  I  declare,  I  can  hardly  make  out 
how  it  did  happen !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Morton's 
wife,  with  a  troubled  look.  "There,  Jessie,  that's 
hay  enough  to  last  them  a  week,  and  I  don't  ex- 
pect to  stay  that  long.  You  see,"  she  went  on, 
slipping  the  harness  deftly  off  the  nigh  horse, 
and  tossing  it  down  on  the  pile  of  hay,  "  nothing 
would  do  Jake  last  night  hut  he  must  go  up  to 
the  north  pasture  to  salt  the  cattle.  I  told  him 
there  was  no  need — they  were  salted  only  last 
Sunday — hut  go  he  would,  and  go  he  did.  It 
got  to  he  so  late  before  he  came  back  that  I  got 
real  uneasy  about  him.  It's  a  good  bit  to  the 
north  pasture,  but  I  knew  it  ought  not  to  keep 
him  out  so  very  late.  Why,  it  was  after  twelve 
o'clock  when  he  came  in  at  last,  with  his  clothes 
torn,  and  his  hand  done  up  in  his  handker- 
chief and  just  dripping  with  blood  !  Jessie  and 
Ralph  had  gone  to  bed,  hours  before,  and  I  was 
thankful  that  she  wasn't  up  to  see  it,  for  it  fairly 
scared  me,  and  I'm  not  a  mite  nervous,  generally. 


A   VISIT    FROM    MRS.    HORTON  73 

I  expect  I  was  the  more  scared  because  of  Jake's 
way  of  taking  it.  He's  as  steady  as  iron,  most 
times,  but  last  night  he  was  all  kind  of  trembly 
and  excited.  He  tried  to  explain  to  me  how  the 
accident  took  place,  but  I  couldn't  make  out 
hardly  what  he  did  mean.  It  appears,  though, 
that  he  was  coming  home  along  the  ravine — 
where  it's  always  dark,  no  matter  how  bright  the 
moonlight — and  he  jabbed  his  hand,  as  he  was 
walking  fast,  up  against  a  sharp  jack  oak  stub 
— at  least,  he  thought  it  must  have  been  some 
such  thing — and  he  got  an  awful  cut.  You 
wouldn't  believe,  if  you  didn't  see  it  with  your 
own  eyes,  that  a  stub  of  any  kind  could  make 
such  a  wound !  There's  a  long,  slanting  cut 
clean  through  the  palm  of  his  hand.  I  wanted 
him  to  let  me  look  in  it  for  splinters,  but  he's 
real  touchy  about  it;  wouldn't  even  let  me 
bathe  it,"  she  concluded  sadly. 

Everybody  liked  Mrs.  Horton,  and  a  good 
many  things  that  her  husband  did  would 
have  been  less  easily  condoned  by  their  neigh- 
bors if  she  had  been  as  little  of  a  favorite  as 


74  TWO    WYOMIXG    GIRLS 

he,  and  one  of  the  things  that  people  liked  best, 
while  finding  it  most  incomprehensible,  was  that 
she  believed  in  him  and  his  good  intentions 
most  implicitly. 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  could  possibly  have  run 
against  an  oak  stub  in  a  ravine,"  observed  Jessie, 
musingly,  "  Oaks,  and  especially  jack  oaks, 
grow  only  on  the  dry  hillsides."  Jessie  is  very 
observing  when  it  comes  to  a  question  of  the  flora 
of  a  country,  and  what  she  said  was  true,  as  Mrs. 
Horton  hastened  to  admit. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  before,  but  I  believe 
that's  so,"  she  said.  "  It  might  have  been  some- 
thing else,  but  Jake  himself  said  that  there 
wasn't  any  other  kind  of  wood  that  he  knew 
of,  tough  enough  and  hard  enough  to  make 
such  a  cut  as  that." 

Having  cared  for  the  horses  we  three  started  for 
the  house.  "  Did  you  have  a  good  bed  at  Mrs. 
Riley's?"  Jessie  now  asked,  bestow  ing  direct  at- 
tention on  me  for  the  first  time.  We  were 
just  entering  the  house,  and  before  I  could  reply 
Jessie  cried  out  in  surprise  at  the  unfamiliar  as- 


A    VISIT    FROM    MRS.    HORTON  75 

pect  of  the  bed-room,  where  the  heavy  quilt 
still  excluded  the  daylight  from  the  window. 

"Why,  what  is  that  for?"  she  asked,  per- 
ceiving the  cause  of  the  semi-darkness. 

I  had  purposely  refrained  from  telliug  my 
story  until  now.  Now  I  told  it,  to  the  conster- 
nation of  my  auditors.  Jessie  could  scarcely 
credit  the  evidence  of  her  senses,  and  Mrs.  Hor- 
ton  said  feelingly : 

"  Thank  God  that  you  have  a  brave  heart 
and  good  sense,  Leslie !  If  you  hadn't  thought 
of  that  clause  in  the  homestead  law  in  time,  and 
had  gone  away  last  night,  I  tell  you  this  settle- 
ment would  have  been  in  mourning  this  morn- 
ing !  Seems  to  me  that  I  just  couldn't  bear  for 
you  children  to  lose  this  place  now — this  place 
that  your  poor  pa  had  set  his  heart  on  !  And 
to  think  that  such  an  accident  should  take  place 
so  near  the  time  of  your  proving  up  makes  it  so 
much  the  worse,  for,  if  the  house  had  gone,  I 
don't  believe  you  could  have  got  your  title.  No, 
not  if  you  had  taken  down  a  dozen  witnesses  to 
testify  to  the  burning.  The  law  is  strict.  I 


76  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

doubt  if  the  agent  would  have  the  power  to 
give  you  a  deed  unless  there  was  a  house 
standing  on  the  laud  at  the  moment  that  the 
deed  was  issued,  no  matter  if  he  wanted  to  ever 
so  badly." 

She  was  full  of  sympathy  and  kindness,  poor 
soul,  and,  listening  to  her  exclamations  and  con- 
dolences, I  was  sorry  for  her.  Jessie  was  right: 
there  were  no  jack  oaks  in  the  ravine  down 
which  Mr.  Horton  must  have  passed  on  the  way 
from  the  north  pasture  to  his  home. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SUKMISES 

MRS.  HORTON  and  Jessie  walked  around  the 
house  to  the  bed-room  window,  and  stood  sur- 
veying the  pile  of  rubbish  beneath  it,  wonder- 
ing greatly  why  a  fire  should  break  out  in  that 
place. 

"  The  only  way  I  can  account  for  it  is  that  a 
spark  from  the  chimney  must  have  fallen  into 
this  pile  and  set  it  afire,"  Mrs.  Horton  observed, 
turning  bits  of  the  pile  in  question  over  with 
the  toe  of  her  shoe.  "  I'm  not  blaming  you, 
Leslie,  but  it  is  true  that  young  folks  can't  be 
too  careful  with  fire.  I  wouldn't  be  a  mite  sur- 
prised now,  if  you  just  filled  the  kitchen  stove 
full  of  dry  stuff  and  set  it  off  when  you  built  a 
fire  to  get  your  supper." 

"  Leslie  always  does  use  lots  of  kindling,"  in- 
terposed Jessie,  who  was,  it  must  be  admitted, 
more  careful  about  small  savings  than  I. 

77 


78  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  You  may  depend  on  it,  then,  that  that's  just 
how  it  happened,"  Mrs.  Horton  went  on,  while 
I  remained  silent.  "  You  see,  when  you  start  a 
fire  like  that,  lots  of  live  sparks  are  carried 
up  the  chimney,  and  it's  just  a  mercy  that  there 
are  not  more  houses  burned  than  there  are  on 
account  of  it.  I  say  it  for  your  good,  Leslie, 
when  I  say  that  I  hope  this  will  be  a  lesson  to 
you ;  you've  had  a  narrow  escape.  My  !  but  it 
makes  me  shudder  to  think  of  it !" 

As  she  stopped  talking  to  shudder  more  ef- 
fectively I  ventured  to  make  an  observation 
that,  it  was  strange,  had  occurred  to  neither 
Jessie  nor  herself: 

"  It  took  that  spark — supposing  the  fire  was 
started  by  a  spark  from  the  chimney — a  long 
time  to  fall,  didn't  it?  It  was  after  twelve 
when  the  fire  broke  out,  and  I  had  supper  at 
six,  besides — "  but  there  I  checked  myself. 
The  more  I  thought  the  matter  over,  the  more 
desirable  it  seemed  that  I  should  keep  to  myself 
the  dreadful  certainty  that  I  felt  in  regard  to 
the  origin  of  the  fire.  If  people  liked  to  believe 


SURMISES  79 

that  it  was  caused  by  some  negligence  or  care- 
lessness of  mine,  it  would  only  complicate  mat- 
ters, beside  robbing  them  of  a  comfortable  con- 
viction, for  me  to  tell  that  I  had  had  no  fire  on 
the  previous  evening.  Yet  such  was  the  case. 
I  had  made  my  solitary  meal  of  bread  and  milk. 

"  What  a  girl  you  are,  to  be  sure !"  Mrs.  Hor- 
ton  exclaimed,  in  genuine  admiration,  as  we 
turned  back  into  the  house.  "  Now,  why  couldn't 
Jessie  or  I  think  of  that !  Twelve  hours  to 
fall!  No,  it  would  have  been  six  hours  falling, 
wouldn't  it  ?  You  said  the  fire  broke  out  about 
midnight.  Well,  you  can  think  of  more  things 
and  keep  more  quiet  about  them  than  any  ten 
men  that  ever  I  saw.  When  I  think  of  anything 
I  like  to  tell  of  it,  and  I  expect  likely  that's  the 
reason  that  I  never  think  of  real  smart  things ; 
I  don't  hold  on  to  them  long  enough ;  I  pick 
them  before  they're  ripe." 

Jessie  went  to  the  stove  and  lifted  a  lid  to 
peep  inquiringly  into  the  fire-box.  "  I'm  not 
so  sure  that  the  fire  wasn't  started  as  Mrs.  Hor- 
tou  says,"  she  declared.  "  This  stove  holds  fire 


80  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

for  a  long  time,  you  know,  Leslie.  A  gust  of 
wind  might  have  come  up  and  made  such  a 
draft  that  the  embers  started  to  burning  again." 
"If  all  the  world  were  apple-pie,  and  all  the 
sea  were  ink,  and  all  the  trees  were  bread  and 
cheese,  what  should  we  have  to  drink?"  was  my 
not  irrelevant  thought.  In  strict  accordance, 
however,  with  the  character  for  sagacity  that 
Mrs.  Horton  had  just  given  me,  I  said  nothing ; 
but  Mrs.  Horton  assented  to  the  proposition 
with  energy  enough  for  both.  Ralph  was  giv- 
ing unmistakable  signs  of  sleepiness.  Mrs. 
Horton  sat  down  and  took  him  on  her  lap ;  the 
small  head  drooped  on  her  shoulder  while  she 
went  on  to  the  creaking  accompaniment  of  the 
old  rocking  chair.  "  I've  just  thought  of  another 
way  in  which  that  fire  might  have  been  started  " 
— she  evidently  had  it  upon  her  conscience  to 
furnish  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  mystery^ — 
"  I  have  been  noticing  that  you  keep  matches  in 
that  china  saucer  over  the  mantel-piece,  and  it's 
right  alongside  the  window-sill.  Now,  girls,  I 
don't  want  to  seem  to  find  fault  with  any  of 


SURMISES  81 

your  arrangements  ;  but  I  do  like  an  iron  match 
safe,  with  a  heavy  lid,  better  myself;  then 
there's  no  danger  of  their  getting  out,  and  you 
can't  be  too  careful  about  such  things.  Sup- 
pose, now,  that  one  of  those  mountain  rats  that 
are  always  prying  around,  getting  into  every 
crack  and  crevice  that  they  can  wedge  them- 
selves into — suppose  one  of  them  had  come  into 
the  house,  and  crept  out  again  with  a  lot  of 
matches — they'll  eat  anything — and  suppose 
that  rat  went  through  the  rubbish  pile  and 
rubbed  against — " 

But  this  line  of  reasoning  proved  too  much 
for  Jessie,  who,  with  good  cause,  prided  herself 
upon  her  housekeeping. 

"  There  isn't  a  hole  big  enough  for  a  rat  to 
crawl  through  in  the  house !"  she  declared,  with 
some  warmth. 

The  rooms  were  all  lathed  and  plastered. 
Mrs.  Horton  looked  around.  "  One  might  come 
in  at  a  window,"  she  suggested,  with  less  confi- 
dence. 

Knowing  the  truth,  and  having  in  my  pos- 


82  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

session  the  means  of  proving  it,  if  need  be,  I 
took  a  somewhat  wicked  pleasure  in  this  game 
of  wild  conjecture.  It  was,  at  all  events,  a 
satisfaction  to  be  able  to  veto  this  last  propo- 
sition. 

"There  were  only  two  windows  open,  Mrs. 
Horton,  and  they  were  open  only  a  few  inches 
at  the  top,"  I  said. 

"  A  rat  might  climb  up  the  side  of  the 
window,  and  come  in  that  way,"  was  the  reply  to 
this.  "  But" — her  face  suddenly  brightening  as 
a  new  solution  of  the  mystery  flashed  upon  her 
mind — "  I  don't  think  it  was  a  rat,  after  all,  and 
I'll  warrant  I  know  now  just  how  it  happened. 
Last  night  was  Wednesday  night,  you  know, 
and  they  always  have  those  dancing-parties  out 
at  Morley's  tavern,  beyond  the  Eastern  Slope, 
of  a  Wednesday  night.  Lots  of  those  Crusoe 
miners  go  to  them,  and  they  all  smoke.  Now 
what'll  you  chance  that  as  one  of  them  was  com- 
ing home — they  have  to  go  right  past  here — he 
didn't  light  a  match  for  his  cigar,  and  when  he 
was  through  with  it,  fling  the  match  right  down 


SURMISES  83 

against  the  house,  or,  maybe,  he  threw  the 
stub  of  a  cigar  down  ?" 

"  It  might  be,  I  suppose,"  Jessie  admitted, 
rather  reluctantly.  She  was  evidently  disposed 
to  abide  by  her  own  theory  of  reviving  embers 
and  falling  sparks. 

"  Oh,  I'm  well-nigh  sure,  now  that  I  think  of 
it,  that  that  was  the  way  it  happened,"  Mrs. 
Horton  insisted,  pausing  to  brush  Ralph's  damp 
curls  back  from  his  forehead.  "You  see,  I 
wouldn't  feel  so  positive  that  it  was  done  in  just 
that  way  if  it  wasn't  for  an  experience  that  we 
had,  here  in  the  valley  a  long  spell  ago." 

"  You  refer  to  the  time  when  the  great  forest 
was  burned  ?"  Jessie  inquired  rather  absently. 
She  had  seated  herself  at  the  sewing  machine 
and  was  busily  running  up  the  seams  of  Ralph's 
new  kilt. 

"  Yes ;  that's  the  time.  It  was  before  you 
came  here.  And  the  fire  was  set  in  the  way  I 
spoke  of.  A  couple  of  young  men — they 
weren't  much  more  than  boys — came  up  from 
town,  and  they  were  just  at  that  age  when 


84  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

they  thought  it  a  smart  thing  to  be  able  to 
smoke  a  cigar  without  turning  sick  after  it. 
They  were  staying  at  the  hotel,  and  one  day  they 
went  with  a  party  from  there  up  to  see  the 
marble  quarries.  There'd  been  an  awful  dry 
spell ;  it  had  lasted  for  weeks,  and  everything 
was  just  as  dry  as  touch-wood.  There  were 
notices  posted  all  along  the  roads  and  trails,  for- 
bidding folks  building  camp-fires,  or  anything  of 
that  kind.  The  boys,  after  they  had  been  to  the 
quarries,  started  home  ahead  of  the  others,  and 
on  foot.  I  don't  reckon  that  they'd  got  above  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  quarries  when  they 
pulled  out  some  cigars  and  matches,  intending, 
of  course,  to  have  a  smoke.  Well,  they  had  it, 
but  it  wasn't  just  the  kind  they'd  expected. 
First  one,  then  the  other,  threw  down  their 
lighted  matches,  after  they'd  got  their  cigars 
to  going.  The  wind  was  blowing  hard  in 
their  faces  and  toward  the  quarry,  as  it 
happened,  and  the  next  thing  they  knew 
they  heard  a  great  roaring,  and  as  they  said 
afterward,  two  pillars  of  flame  seemed  to  spring 


SURMISES  85 

right  out  of  the  ground,  one  on  either  side 
of  the  trail,  and  to  reach  so  high  that  they 
almost  touched  the  tree-tops.  In  less  time  than 
I'm  taking  in  telling  of  it  they  had  reached 
the  tree-tops,  and  then  the  two  little  pillars 
of  fire  became  a  great  blazing  ocean  of  fire  up  in 
mid-air.  You  know  how  'tis  with  pine  needles 
and  cones ;  they  make  a  blaze  as  if  the  end  of 
the  world  had  come.  No  wonder  the  poor 
boys  were  scared !  It  was  right  in  the  thickest 
part  of  the  woods,  and  what  with  the  fire  roar- 
ing away  before  the  wind  on  either  side  of  them, 
and  the  clouds  of  smoke  and  sparks  roaring 
away  above  the  burning  tree-tops,  it  must  have 
been  an  awful  sight.  They  were  in  no  particular 
danger  themselves,  because  the  fire  was  going 
away  from  them,  but  as  they  stood  there,  blister- 
ing in  the  heat,  they  thought  of  their  parents — 
their  parents,  who  were  right  in  the  path  of  the 
flames,  and  in  the  way  they  acted  up  to  that 
thought,  you  may  see  the  difference  in  folks. 
One  of  them — Dick  Adams,  his  name  was — 
pulled  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  shook  out  his 


B6  TWO   WYOMING  GIRLS 

handkerchief  and  tied  it  over  his  mouth  to  save 
his  lungs,  and  said  to  the  other,  '  If  anything 
happens  to  our  folks  we  are  the  ones  to  blame 
for  it;  come  on  and  help;'  and  with  that  he 
gave  a  leap  down  the  trail  as  if  he  would  over- 
take the  fire  itself.  But  the  other  boy,  he 
wasn't  made  of  that  kind  of  stuff.  He  just 
turned  and  ran  the  other  way,  and  folks  did  say 
that  he  never  stopped  running  until  he  reached 
town,  twenty  miles  away.  When  poor  Dick, 
blackened  with  grime  and  smoke,  with  his  hair 
singed  and  his  burnt  shoes  dropping  off  his  feet, 
staggered  into  the  open  space  about  the  quarry, 
there  were  the  folks,  and  even  the  horses,  all 
safe.  They  hadn't  started  when  they  saw  the 
fire  coming,  and  so,  knowing  that  they  were 
safe  where  they  were,  they  stayed.  The  fire 
swept  past  them  on  either  side,  and  all  they 
had  to  do  was  to  wait  till  the  trail  got  cool 
enough  to  travel  over.  There  was  no  great 
damage  done  after  all,  though  a  great  many 
trees  were  destroyed,  but  so  were  acres  and  acres 
of  underbrush,  and  that  was  a  big  help  to 


SURMISES  87 

stockmen.  Dick  was  pretty  well  done  up,  but 
he  didn't  care  for  any  more  cigars,  and  his 
father  paid  the  fine  that  the  township's  trustees 
assessed  against  him,  cheerful  on  that  account, 
though  he  said  he  was  sorry  he  couldn't  save  the 
timber.  Now,  Leslie,"  she  concluded  her  story, 
abruptly,  "  if  you'll  just  move  those  hats  a  little 
I'll  lay  the  baby  on  the  bed." 

After  I  had  complied,  and  Ralph's  head  was 
on  a  pillow  instead  of  her  arm,  she  came  to 
Jessie's  side  and  stood  regarding  her  work 
thoughtfully. 

"  You're  real  spry  on  the  machine,  aren't 
you?"  she  at  length  remarked,  admiringly. 
"  Now  me,  I'm  as  slow !"  She  looked  around  the 
room  and  continued,  with  seeming  irrelevance : 
"  I  'spose  the  furnishings  must  have  cost  you  a 
good  deal  ?"  Her  tone  was  very  gentle. 

"  Yes,"  Jessie  returned,  comprehending  her 
meaning  with  the  quick  intuition  that  grief 
gives.  "  Yes ;  they  did." 

"  Well,  he's  at  rest.  You  can  visit  his  grave. 
They're  worth  all  they  cost  and  more,  but  I  was 


88  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

thinking  now  if  you  felt  like  taking  in  a  little 
sewing  to  help  along  until — " 

"  Why,  I'd  like  to  do  it,  dear  Mrs.  Horton  !" 
Jessie  interrupted,  looking  up  with  sparkling 
eyes.  "  I've  never  thought  of  it  before,  hut  if 
I  could  get  it  to  do  I  would  be  so  glad  !  Every 
little  toward  the  proving  up  is  just  so  much 
gained." 

"That  is  what  I  was  thinking.  I  can  let 
you  have  quite  a  little  work  myself,  and  I 
know  there  are  others  who  will  be  glad  of  a 
chance  to  get  sewing  done.  I  declare,  I'm  glad 
I  thought  "of  it !  It  will  be  so  nice  for  you  to 
do  something  to  help  out  right  here  at  home. 
And,"  she  went  on,  her  kind  eyes  shining, 
"maybe  you  can  learn  to  be  a  dressmaker — " 

"No,  no!"  interposed  Jessie,  who  had  her 
future  comfortably  mapped  out  in  her  mind. 
"  I  mean  to  be  a  teacher." 

"  Do  you  ?  That's  a  good,  respectable  trade, 
too,  and  a  teacher  you  shall  be  if  I  can  do  any- 
thing to  help  you  get  a  school." 

Jessie  smiled  up   at   her   gratefully.      Mrs. 


SURMISES  89 

Horton  might  not,  perhaps,  have  great  influ- 
ence in  educational  circles,  but  the  highest 
authority  among  them  could  not  have  had  a 
kinder  heart.  But  something  that  Mrs.  Horton 
had  said  set  me  thinking  of  quite  another 
matter. 

"  If  you  were  here  so  long  ago,"  I  observed, 
suspending  my  task  of  shelling  peas,  and  look- 
ing earnestly  at  our  visitor,  "why  didn't  Mr. 
Horton  take  up  some  land?  He  could  have 
taken  anything,  almost  then,  and  I — we — I  have 
sometimes  thought  that  he  kind  of  wanted  this 
place,"  I  concluded,  weakly. 

Mrs.  Horton's  gentle  face  flushed ;  she  was 
really  fond  of  her  husband,  who,  to  be  sure,  was 
very  careful  not  to  let  any  knowledge  of  his 
underhanded  doings  come  to  her  ears. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Leslie,"  she  said,  "I've 
thought  now  and  again  myself  that  Jake  was 
looking  after  this  place.  It's  a  beautiful  place ; 
there  isn't  another  as  pretty  in  the  valley,  but 
when  we  first  came  here  folks  were  not  thinking 
of  taking  up  land — no,  indeed.  Cattle  ranges 


90  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

were  what  they  were  after,  and  they  couldn't 
abide  the  settler  that  put  up  fences.  No  ;  Jake 
let  his  chance  of  taking  the  place  slip,  and  your 
father  took  it  up ;  and  that  was  right ;  he  wasn't 
a  cattleman,  and  he  needed  the  land  to  work. 
Don't  you  fret  about  Jake's  wanting  it.  He 
don't  need  it,  for  one  thing,  for  we're  real  well 
to  do,  if  I  do  say  it,  and  it  would  be  a  pretty 
unneighborly  thing  for  him  to  grudge  the 
place  to  you  now.  You  see,  Jake's  ways  are 
different.  He  makes  folks  think,  often,  I  make 
no  doubt,  that  he's  set  on  getting  things  when 
he  isn't,  really.  I  expect  he'd  feel  quite  hurt  if 
you  were  to  lose  this  place." 

"Unless  he  got  it  himself,"  was  my  silent 
amendment. 

"  We  could  buy  the  ranch  where  we  are," 
Mrs  Horton  went  on,  "  and  I  wish  Jake  was 
willing  to  do  it ;  I'm  like  your  father  was ;  I 
want  a  home  of  my  own,  but  Jake  says  he 
doesn't  like  that  place  as  well  as  he  does  another 
that  he  has  in  mind." 

"What  place  is  that?"  asked  Jessie. 


SURMISES  91 

"  I  don't  know,  really,  Jake's  no  hand  to  talk 
over  business  matters  with  me ;  no  hand  at  all, 
and  so  I  don't  worry  him.  I  just  let  him  take 
his  own  gait."  And  a  very  bad  gait  it  was,  if 
she  had  but  known  it,  poor  woman  ! 

No  more  was  said  about  the  land,  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day  passed  pleasantly,  and  it 
was  nearly  night-fall  when  Mrs.  Horton  again 
climbed  into  the  wagon-seat  and  headed  the 
horses  toward  home.  Good-bys  had  been  ex- 
changed when,  suddenly,  she  drew  in  the  restless 
horses  to  say :  "  You  tell  old  Joe,  when  he  comes 
back,  how  that  fire  got  started ;  tell  him  that  he 
must  be  more  careful,  these  dry  times,  how  he 
lets  such  a  lot  of  dry  stuff  get  lodged  against  the 
house."  And,  with  that  admonition,  she  was 
gone. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


JOE  came  home  the  next  day,  and  his  indig- 
nation, when  Jessie  told  him  of  the  fire,  and  of 
the  manner — presumably — in  which  it  origi- 
nated, was  nearly  as  scorching  as  the  fire  itself. 
Nothing  in  the  whole  affair  seemed  to  rouse  his 
wrath  to  such  a  pitch  as  did  her  recital  of  the 
theories  that  she  and  Mrs.  Horton  had  evolved 
to  account  for  the  threatened  disaster. 

"Wat  sort  of  fool  talk  dat?"  he  inquired, 
contemptuously,  when  Jessie  had  concluded. 

"Why,  Joe,  the  fire  must  have  started  in 
some  such  way  !"  Jessie  insisted. 

"  Honey,  yo's  done  got  a  forgibbin'  sperrit ; 
yo'  not  only  forgibs  yo'  iiiiiny,  like  what  de 
Bible  say  fur  ter  do,  but  yo'  eben  furgits  dat  yo' 
has  one !" 

"  Oh,  Joe !     Surely  you  cannot  think  that  it 
was  the  work  of  an  incendiary  ?" 
92 


"  BEST    LAID    PLANS  "  93 

"  Ob  a  'cindery  ?  No,  hit  ain'  dat." 
"  What  do  you  think,  then,  Joe  ?" 
"  Wat  I  t'ink  ?  Some  low-down  sneak  sot 
hit  afire.  Dat's  w'at  I  t'ink.  An'  I  wouldn' 
hab  ter  hunt  long  afore  I  done  laid  my  han's 
on  him,  neider."  Jessie  looked  so  shocked,  and 
so  cast  down,  that,  chancing  to  catch  the  old 
man's  eye,  I  shook  my  head  at  him  warningly. 
Joe  understood.  His  beloved  master  Ralph's 
tactics  had  been  those  of  silence  and  Joe  was 
willing  to  follow  them  to  the  end.  But  he  mut- 
tered scornfully  :  "  'Cindery  ?  Dat  a  likely 
idee ;  w'en  I  nebber  lef '  a  heap  o'  stuff  like  dat 
ag'in'  nobody's  house  en  all  my  life !  Look  like 
I'd  go  fur  ter  doin'  hit  now,  w'en  dish  yer  house 
hole  my  own  fambly !" 

He  seated  himself  in  the  corner  with  a  bit  of 
harness  that  he  had  brought  up  to  the  house  to 
mend,    in  his   hand,   but   presently  he   began 
searching  anxiously  for  some  mislaid  tool. 
"  What  have  you  lost,  Joe  ?"  I  asked. 
"  Wv>  I  ain'  right  shore  as  I  done  los'  any- 
t'ing,  chile,  but  de  needle  an'  t'read  w'at  I  put 


94  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

in  dis  cheer,  ag'in'  I  wanted  'em,  'pear  to  hab 
crope  away  some'ers  ;  likewise  dat  ar  leetle  case 
knife  w'at  I  cuts  leather  wiv'.  Dey's  gone,  an' 
I  doan  see  dat  chile  Ralph  'round'  nowhere's." 

Just  at  this  point  the  door  was  pushed  a  little 
farther  open  and  a  cheerful  voice  proclaimed : 
"  Here  me  is,  Doe !" 

The  voice  was  followed  by  its  owner,  little 
Ralph,  but  such  a  curious  spectacle  the  boy 
presented  that  the  occupants  of  the  room  stared 
at  him  a  moment  in  amazed  silence.  Jessie  was 
the  first  to  recover  her  power  of  speech  and  re- 
monstrance : 

"  Ralph  !  Oh,  what  have  you  been  doing,  you 
naughty,  naughty  boy !" 

It  was  evident  that  the  little  trespasser  had 
not  realized  that  his  recent  occupation  had  been 
in  any  way  objectionable.  His  lips  began  to 
quiver,  but  he  stood  his  ground  manfully. 

"  Me  isn't  a  notty,  notty  b'y,  Jeppie.  Me  is 
a  yittle  'orse,  an'  'ese  are  'e  yittle  'orse's  ley 
bells." 

"  Sleigh  bells !     Didn't  you  know  any  better 


95 

than  to  pull  up  all  of  Joe's  cantaloupes  and  string 
them  on  to  threads — how  you  could  do  it  I  can't 
imagine — to  hang  around  your  shoulders  ?" 
"  Dey  isn't  'antelopes,  Jeppie ;  dey's  ley  bells." 
"How  did  you  do  it?     Oh,  you  naughty — " 
"  Me  did  it  wiv  Doe's  little  knife  an'  Doe's 
needle  an*  t'read ;  an'  me  hurted  me's  han's,  me 
did." 

The  recollection  gave  him  the  excuse  that 
he  was  longing  for.  The  string  to  one  of  his 
odd  sets  of  sleigh-bells  broke  as  he  started  across 
the  room,  with  outstretched  arms,  for  Joe,  and 
he  left  a  trail  of  small,  hard,  green  melons  as  he 
ran.  "  Doe  I"  he  cried,  as  the  old  man  lifted 
him  tenderly  to  his  breast,  "ine  hurted  me 
han's !"  The  howl  of  anguish  with  which  he 
repeated  the  statement  was  partially  smothered 
by  reason  of  the  sufferer's  face  being  buried  in 
Joe's  neck.  "Jeppie  say  me  is  notty,  notty 
b'y !"  he  continued,  sobbing. 

"  Miss  Jessie,"  the  old  man  said,  with  dignity, 
looking  disapprovingly  at  his  young  mistress 
over  the  boy's  shaking  shoulders,  "  yo'  means 


96  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

well,  honey ;  I  ain'  a  doubtin'  ob  dat,  but  yo' 
done  got  er  heap  ter  learn  'bout  managiii'  chil- 
len.  Yo's  done  hurted  pore  little  Ralph's  feel- 
in's  mighty  bad !" 

"  His  feelings  ought  to  be  hurt !"  Jessie  per- 
sisted, indignantly.  "A  boy  who  is  old  enough 
to  do  such  a  piece  of  mischief  as  that  is  old 
enough  to  know  better.  And,  Joe,  it  isn't  right 
for  you  to  encourage  him  in  it." 

"  Honey,  hit  ain'  likely,  now,  is  hit,  dat  any 
one  has  dish  yer  pore  little  feller's  good  more  at 
heart  dan  I  has,  now  is  hit  ?" 

"  No,  Joe,  it  isn't," 

"  Berry  well,  den  ;  now  yo'  listen  at  me.  Ef 
I  had  a'  t'ought  ob  hit  w'en  I  was  a  plantin' 
dem  dere  little  yeller  seeds  I'd  put  out  a  patch 
on  purpose  for  dis  chile  ter  'a'  had  fur  a  marble 
quarry,  or  fur  sleigh-bells,  or  w'atebber  he  tuck 
a  notion  fur.  But  I  didn't  t'iuk  of  hit,  an'  de 
chile  did.  Dat's  all !" 

It  was  utterly  useless  to  argue  against  such 
self-abnegation  as  this,  but  Jessie  could  not  for- 
bear saying :  "  Think  of  the  trouble  you  have 


"BEST  LAID  PLAXS"  97 

taken  with  that  melon  patch.  You've  scoured 
the  whole  valley,  high  and  low,  for  tin  cans  to 
cover  the  vines  when  a  frost  was  threatened, 
and  you've  spent  days  in  hoeing  and  weeding 
them." 

"  And  dere  ain'  a  purtier  patch  oh  melons,  er 
a  more  promisin'  one,  in  de  whole  State,  ef  I 
does  say  hit !"  Joe  declared  with  pride. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,  Joe.  You  haven't 
seen  it  since  Ralph  has  been  over  it." 

Joe  shifted  the  child's  position,  so  that  the 
tear-stained  little  white  face  rested  against  his 
own,  to  which  it  formed  a  wonderful  and  beau- 
tiful contrast.  "  Wat  melons  dese  yer  little 
han's  been  a-pullin'  up  ain'  no  loss  t'  nobody," 
he  said  ;  "  an'  I  wants  de  chile  t'  'joy  hisself." 

A  subsequent  examination  of  the  melon  patch 
established  the  truth  of  Joe's  words.  At  the 
moment,  however,  the  idea  that  Ralph  gathered 
was  that  he  had  done  a  rather  commendable 
thing  than  otherwise.  "  Shall  me  pull  up  'e 
rest  of  'em  ?"  he  asked  hopefully,  snuggling 
closer  to  the  black  face.  Joe  stole  a  sheepish 


98  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

look  at  Jessie,  whose  eyes  were  dancing  with 
amusement. 

"  Not  jess  yit,  wouldn't  go  fur  t'  pull  'em, 
honey,  chile.  Wait  twell  dey's  growed  'bout  as 
big  as  er  coffee-cup,  an'  den  jess  bring  yo'  little 
toofies  tergedder  on  de  inside  o'  one  of  'em.  Yo's 
et  oranges,  an'  yo's  squalled  hard  w'en  dey  was 
gone,  'cause  dere  wan't  no  mo'  of  'em.  But  yo' 
won't  look  at  a  orange  when  yo'  kin  git  a  can- 
taloupe." 

"Den  me  lets  'em  drow,"  Ralph  declared 
magnanimously,  and  it  is  but  fair  to  the  child 
to  say  that  he  kept  his  word. 

"  Come  and  gather  up  all  your  sleigh-bells, 
then,  Ralph,"  Jessie  admonished  him. 

Climbing  down  from  Joe's  lap  he  set  about 
the  clearance,  awkwardly  enough.  The  abbre- 
viated skirt  of  his  little  dress  was  about  half 
filled — he  had  made  a  kind  of  bag  of  it  by  gath- 
ering the  folds  tightly  in  one  hand  while  he 
picked  up  melons  with  the  other — when  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  Dropping  the  spoil 
that  he  had  already  secured,  Ralph  ran  across 


"BEST  LAID  PLANS"  99 

the  room  to  admit  the  caller,  the  melons  rolling 
in  every  direction.  Joe  glanced  at  them  appre- 
hensively, and  then  gave  his  undivided  atten- 
tion to  the  harness  mending. 

The  visitor  who  entered  the  room  on  Ralph's 
hospitable  invitation  was  our  near  neighbor, 
Caleb  Wilson.  Mr.  Wilson  glanced  at  the 
array  of  hard  little  spheres  on  the  floor  and 
laughed. 

"  I'll  bet  a  cent  you've  been  up  to  mischief, 
youngster,"  he  said,  nodding  to  me  as  I  handed 
him  a  chair. 

He  looked  smilingly  at  Ralph,  who  retreated 
to  Joe's  side,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Ralph,  do  you  hear  Mr.  Wilson  ?"  Jessie 
sternly  inquired. 

"  'Ess  ;  me  hears  him.' 

"  Why  don't  you  answer  him,  then  ?" 

"  'Tause  he  didn't  ask  me  nuffin'.  " 

Joe's  sombre  face  lighted  up ;  his  white 
ivories  gleamed  out  suddenly  like  a  flash  of  sun- 
light through  a  storm  cloud.  To  Joe's  mind 
few  people  had  a  right  to  question  the  doings  of 


100  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

a  Gordon,  of  any  age  or  degree,  and  Mr.  Wilson 
was  not  one  of  the  favored  few.  Our  genial 
neighbor  laughed. 

"That's  right,  my  little  man;  I  didn't.  I 
made  a  statement,  and  you  seem  to  be  sharp 
enough  already  to  see  the  difference." 

He  had  been  carrying  a  covered  tin  pail  in 
his  hand.  He  now  set  it  on  the  floor  beside  his 
chair,  while  Jessie,  who  had  it  much  at  heart 
that  her  little  brother  must  be  properly  trained, 
remarked : 

"  Kalph  has  been  very  naughty." 

"He'll  come  out  all  right;  don't  you  go  to 
worrying  about  him,  Miss  Jessie,"  Mr.  Wilson 
admonished  her,  cheerfully.  "  He's  nothing 
but  a  baby,  anyway,"  he  continued,  "  but  what 
even  a  baby  can  want  of  all  those  little  green 
knobs  of  cantaloupes  is  more'n  I  can  tell,  but 
seeing  'em  calls  to  my  mind  a  fruit  speculation 
of  mine,  last  summer." 

"I  thought  you  were  a  cattleman?"  I  in- 
terrupted, involuntarily. 

Mr.  Wilson  glanced  down  at  the  pail  beside 


"  BEST    LAID    PLANS  "  101 

his  chair.  "  Well,  I  am,  Leslie,  but  a  cattle- 
man doesn't  have  to  be  sensible  all  the  time.  I 
had  a  kind  of  spell  last  summer  when  I  wasn't 
sensible,  and  while  it  was  at  its  height  I  got 
hold  of  a  pile  of  young  tomato  plants  and  set 
'em  out.  You  see,  as  everybody  else,  pretty 
nigh,  is  in-  the  cattle  business,  too,  there  aiut 
much  fruit  raised  around  here,  and  so  I  'lowed 
I'd  be  able  to  dispose  of  my  tomato  crop  to  good 
advantage.  Along  in  August  the  crop  was 
ready  to  market,  and  it  was  a  hummer,  no  mis- 
take. The  construction  gang  and  the  engineers 
were  working  on  the  big  storage  reservoirs  out 
beyond  Turtle  Shell  Buttes  then,  just  as  they 
are  now.  There's  a  lot  of  men  employed  there 
and  I  knew  that  there  was  the  place  to  go  with 
my  tomatoes." 

"  What,  away  out  on  the  plains,  beyond  the 
valley  ?  That  must  be  twenty  miles  away," 
Jessie  remarked,  as  Mr.  Wilson  paused  to 
chuckle  over  some  amusing  reminiscence. 

"It'»  all  of  that;  maybe  more.  But  you 
must  remember  that  driving  over  the  plains  is 


102  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

like  driving  over  a  level  floor.  Distance  doesn't 
count  for  much  when  the  roads  are  always 
smooth  and  even.  Well;  one  afternoon  Tom 
and  I  filled  the  bottom  of  the  wagon-box  with 
a  soft  bed  of  fresh  alfalfa  hay  and  then  we  piled 
tomatoes  in  on  top  of  it  till  they  came  clean  up 
to  the  edge  of  the  top  bed.  Of  course  if  the 
roads  had  been  rough  it  aint  likely  that  even  a 
cattleman  would  a'  thought  of  taking  such  a 
load  in  that  way ;  as  it  was,  I  reckon  there  wasn't 
a  tomato  smashed  in  transit.  I  didn't  get  quite 
as  early  a  start  as  I'd  'lowed  to,  so  it  was  just 
noon  when  I  reached  the  camp." 

"  I  should  have  thought  that  you  would  lose 
the  way,"  I  said.  My  mind  had  conjured  up  a 
vivid  picture  of  the  far  stretches  of  unfeuced 
plains  that  lay  between  our  mountain-walled 
valley  and  the  great  water  storage  system  where 
a  single  lake  already  sparkled  like  a  white  jewel 
on  the  gray  waste  of  plains.  "  There  are  wolves, 
too,"  I  added,  suddenly. 

"Yes;  there  are  wolves,  but  they  don't  eat 
tomatoes.  And,  as  for  losing  the  road,  all  that 


103 

I  had  to  do  was  to  follow  it ;  it  stretches  out, 
plain  as  a  white  ribbon  on  a  black  dress.  As  I 
said,  it  was  noon  when  I  reached  camp.  All 
hands  had  struck  work  and  gone  to  dinner,  so 
I  thought  I'd  wait  till  they  got  through  before 
I  sprung  the  subject  of  tomatoes  on  them. 

There  ain't  a  tree  nor  a  shrub  bigger  than  a 
soap  weed  within  a  mile  of  the  reservoirs,  and 
as  I  didn't  want  to  set  and  hold  the  horses  all 
the  time,  I  unhitched  'em  and  tied  'em  to  the 
wagon  box ;  one  on  each  side.  I  knew  that 
they  wouldn't  eat  the  tomatoes,  and,  as  there  was 
plenty  of  horse  feed  in  camp,  I  'lowed  to  buy  their 
dinner  when  I  run  on  to  some  one  to  buy  it  of. 
It  turned  out,  though,  that  the  horses  didn't  un- 
derstand about  that ;  they  had  a  scheme  of  their 
own,  and  they  worked  it  to  good  advantage. 

I  strolled  off,  and  pretty  soon  I  got  mighty 
interested  in  lookin'  at  the  works;  it's  a  big 
enterprise,  I  tell  you !  I  was  gone  from  the 
wagon  a  good  deal  longer  than  I'd  laid  out  to 
be,  and  I  don't  know  as  I'd  'a'  woke  up  for  an 
hour  or  two,  but  I  heard  a  fellow  laughin'  over 


104  TWO    WYOMING   GIKLS 

that  way  and  so  I  went  over  to  see  what  was 
goin'  on.  Well,  I  found  out,"  Mr.  Wilson 
paused  impressively  and  glanced  around  at  us. 
Joe  was  listening  with  such  absorbed  attention 
that  his  work  had  slipped  unheeded  from  his 
hands  and  Ralph  had  again  secured  the  harness 
needle  and  was  awkwardly  re-stringing  his  imi- 
tation sleigh  bells.  "  What  was  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  you  see,  I'd  plumb  forgot  about  the 
alfalfa  hay,  but  the  horses  had  remembered,  and 
they  nosed  through  the  fruit  until  they  come  to 
it,  and  they  hadn't  lost  a  minute's  time,  either. 
When  the  hay'd  given  out  in  one  place  they'd 
worked  through  at  another  until  they  struck 
bed  rock  again.  The  whole  load  was  just  a 
mass  of  tomato  jam  ;  the  juice  was  running  out 
of  the  box  in  a  stream,  and  the  horses  were  red 
with  it  from  hoof  to  forelock.  There  wasn't  a 
bushel  of  whole  fruit  left.  I  jerked  out  the 
tail-board  and  dumped  the  mess  on  the  ground, 
while  about  forty  men  stood  around  just  yelliu' 
and  hootin'  with  delight.  They  got  more 
pleasure  out  of  it  than  they  could  possibly  V 


"BEST  LAID  PLANS"  105 

got  from  eatin'  the  tomatoes.  The  cook  came 
out  of  his  little  tent  alongside  the  big  dining 
tent,  to  see  what  the  racket  was  about,  and  when 
he  got  his  eyes  on  the  fruit  he  was  powerful 
mad.  He  said  he'd  a'  given  a  dollar  and  a  half 
a  bushel  for  the  load.  He  wanted  me  to  promise 
to  come  with  another  load  the  next  day,  but  I'd 
had  enough  of  fruit  raisin' — 'specially  when  the 
horses  did  the  heft  of  the  raisin' — I  wouldn't  V 
faced  that  yellin'  crowd  again  for  a  hundred 
dollars.  No,  sir  !  I  come  right  straight  home, 
and  I  sent  word  'round  among  the  neighbors  to 
come  and  help  themselves  to  all  the  tomatoes 
they  could  lug  home  ;  what  they  didn't  take  the 
frost  did,  and  that  was  the  end  of  my  experi- 
ment in  fruit  raising." 

"It  was  just  too  bad  !"  I  exclaimed,  feeling 
that  I  ought  to  say  something  sympathetic. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  our  neighbor, 
in  his  comfortable  way.  "  It  was  all  my  fault. 
A  man's  got  to  keep  his  wits  about  him,  no 
matter  what  he  undertakes  to  do,  and  I  left 
mine  at  home  that  day.  My  wife'll  think  I'm 


106  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

lost,  wits  and  all,  if  I  stay  much  longer,  that's 
a  fact." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  after  bidding  us  a 
cordial  farewell,  started  for  the  door.  Then  the 
pail  on  the  floor  caught  his  eye  to  remind 
him  that  his  intractable  wits  had  again 
strayed.  "Well,  I  declare  for  it!  I  come 
nigh  forgetting  what  I  stopped  for.  Seems 
like  a  good  way  to  come  for  milk,  doesn't 
it?  We  had  company  come  unexpected,  and 
nothing  would  do  Sarah  but  I  must  ride  over 
here  and  ask  you  for  some  milk.  Condensed 
milk  is  good  enough  for  us,  but  Sarah  says  it 
ain't  good  enough  for  company." 

Jessie  had  already  taken  the  pail  and  started 
for  the  pantry;  when  she  reappeared  with  it 
filled,  she  said,  demurely : 

"  I  thought  that  you  said  you  were  a  cattle- 
man, Mr.  Wilson." 

"  Oh,  bless  you  !  Don't  you  know  the  old 
saying  about  a  shoemaker's  wife  ?  Lots  of  folks 
that  can  count  their  cattle  by  the  thousand  head 
would  be  glad  if  they  could  be  sure  of  as  much 


107 

nice  milk  and  butter  as  you  girls  get  off  your 
two  cows,  Miss  Jessie.  It's  management,  you 
see." 

"  You  mean  want  of  management,  don't  you?" 
returned  Jessie,  smiling. 

Mr.  Wilson's  jolly  laugh  floated  back  to  us  as 
he  went  down  the  walk  toward  the  horse  that 
was  waiting  for  him  at  the  gate,  and  then  I 
roused  myself  to  observe  that  Joe  was  again 
hunting  for  his  tools.  He  presently  rescued 
them  from  Ralph's  destructive  little  hands,  and 
set  to  work,  only  pausing  the  while  to  remark : 

"  I  reckons  dat  ar  watah  sto'age  camp  gwiue 
be  a  'mighty  good  place  fur  to  sell  we  all's 
melon  crap  at." 


CHAPTER  IX 

AN   IMPORTANT   ANNOUNCEMENT 

THE  Hortoiis'  place  was  some  five  miles  below 
ours,  if  one  followed  the  main  road,  but  they 
were  often  passing  the  house  on  their  way  to  and 
from  the  little  country  store  and  post-office.  So 
it  was  not  surprising  that  Mrs.  Horton  should 
reappear  in  a  few  days  with  a  large  bundle  of 
sewing  of  her  own  for  Jessie  to  do,  and  the  in- 
telligence that  she  had  interviewed  several  of  the 
neighbors,  some  of  whom  had  said  that  they 
would  gladly  employ  Jessie. 

"You  are  so  good,  Mrs.  Horton,"  Jessie  ex- 
claimed gratefully.  "  It  will  be  a  real  help  to 
us  if  we  are  able  to  earn  a  little  in  this  way." 

"  Maybe  you  won't  feel  so  anxious  to  do  it 
when  you  see  what  I've  brought,"  the  good 
woman  said,  as  she  proceeded  to  untie  her  bulky 
bundle.  "You  see,"  she  explained,  "Jake 
nearly  tore  the  coat  from  his  back  when  he 
108 


A.N  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT     109 

went  up  to  salt  those  cattle  the  other  night.  He 
seems,  from  what  I  can  make  out,  to  have  had  a 
regular  circus  with  himself,  and  I'm  so  busy, 
what  with  the  housework  and  being  obliged  to 
do  all  the  trading — for  Jake  never  will  go  to 
the  store  if  he  can  get  out  of  it — I've  had  no 
time  to  mend  it.  I  put  it  right  in  here  with 
the  other  things,  hoping  that  you  or  Leslie 
wouldn't  mind  mending  it  for  me." 

My  very  spine  seemed  to  stiffen  at  the  idea  of 
mending  the  clothing  that  had  been  torn  while 
its  wearer  was  making  a  futile  attempt  to  burn 
our  house,  but  Jessie,  knowing  nothing  of  all 
this,  and  naturally  trustful,  replied  tranquilly  : 

"  Certainly,  we  will,  Mrs.  Horton,  if  you 
think  we  can  do  it  well  enough." 

"  Oli !  anybody  can  do  it  well  enough.  If  I 
had  my  way  with  it  I'd  put  it  into  the  stove 
and  have  done  with  it,"  she  announced  frankly. 
"  It's  seen  its  best  days.  But  it  appears  to  me 
that  the  longer  Jake  wears  a  thing  the  better  he 
likes  it.  What  a  figure  he  would  have  made  in 
the  days  of  Methuselah,  to  be  sure!" 


110  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

She  shook  the  coat  out  and  laid  it  on 
the  table.  Jessie  turned  it  over,  examining 
some  gaping  rents,  evidently  of  recent  make. 
Finally, 

"  Here's  a  button  gone,"  she  said.  I  felt  my 
face  grow  white,  while  Mrs.  Horton  explained 
placidly : 

"  Yes ;  and  that's  a  pity,  for  the  buttons  are 
worth  more  than  the  coat.  They're  quite 
curious,  if  you'll  notice.  I  never  saw  any  like 
them  before  he  got  that  coat.  I  think  myself 
that  that  little  brass  leaf  stuck  on  to  the  front 
of  them  looks  fussy  on  a  man's  coat  but- 
tons, but  Jake  thinks  they're  so  tasty.  He 
was  wonderfully  put  out  when  he  found  that 
he'd  lost  one  of  them.  The  land  sake,  Leslie !" 
she  broke  off  suddenly  as  her  glance  fell  on  me. 
"Are  you  sick,  child  ?  Why,  you  are  as  pale  as 
a  sheet !  Isn't  she,  Jessie  ?" 

Jessie,  glancing  up  from  the  tattered  coat,  in 
alarm,  confirmed  this  statement,  and  they  were 
both  anxiously  inquiring  if  I  felt  sick,  and  how 
long  since  the  attack  came  on,  and  if  I  hadn't 


AN  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT     111 

better  go  right  to  bed,  when  a  diversion  was 
created  by  the  entrance  of  Joe.  Joe  had  the 
weekly  county  paper  open  in  his  hand ;  he  could 
read  a  little  in  a  halting  and  uncertain  fashion, 
but  did  not  often  trouble  himself  to  do  it.  "  There 
must  have  been  something  of  special  interest  to 
him  in  this  issue,"  I  thought,  and  was  not  left 
long  in  doubt  as  to  what  it  was. 

"  Heah  we  is !"  he  exclaimed,  gleefully,  ex- 
tending the  paper  toward  Jessie ;  "  heah's  our 
third  and  las'  notice  ob  provin'  up !" 

"  Oh,  is  it  there  ?"  cried  Jessie,  seizing  the 
paper,  and  running  her  eye  quickly  over  the 
item  indicated  by  Joe's  stubby  black  finger. 
Mrs.  Horton,  brushing  her  husband's  cherished 
coat  from  the  chair  where  Jessie  had  dropped  it 
to  the  floor,  seated  herself,  leaning  forward  in 
anxious  attention,  and  even  Ralph,  abandoning 
a  furtive  attempt  to  put  the  cat  in  the  water- 
pail,  came  and  leaned  against  her  knees,  while 
Jessie  read  aloud : 

"Before  the  United  States  Land  Office  at 
Fairplay,  Chico  County,  on  August  30th,  18 — , 


112  TWO    WYOMING   GIKLS 

will  appear,  viz. :  Ralph  C.  Gordon,  who  enters 
Homestead  claim,  No.  4571,  for  the  W.  1-2, 
W,  1-4,  Section  34,  and  S.  1-2  Section  33, 
Township  22.  S,  Range  68  W. 

"  Ralph  C.  Gordon  names  the  following  wit- 
nesses to  prove  his  continuous  residence  upon, 
and  cultivation  of  said  land,  viz. : 

"  W.  H.  Wright,  S.  H.  Stearns,  C.  L.  Wilson, 
all  of  Chico  County. 

"  W.  W.  BAYARD,  Register." 

We  all  listened  to  the  reading  with  breathless 
interest.  When  it  was  concluded  Mrs.  Horton 
observed :  "  Wright,  Stearns,  and  Wilson, 
they're  your  witnesses,  are  they  ?" 

"Yes;  father  selected  them,  you  know," 
Jessie  replied. 

"They're  good  men,  all  of  them,  but,  I 
declare,  I  wish  that  your  pa  had  thought  to 
put  Jake  on,  too !  It  would  have  given  me  a 
good  excuse  to  go  down  with  you  when  the  day 
comes.  Not  but  what  I  mean  to  go  anyhow,  for 
that  matter.  Well,  now,  your  date  is  set.  It 
wasn't  set  before,  was  it  ?" 


AN  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT     113 

"  No ;  the  other  notices  read :  '  On  a  day  to 
be  hereinafter  named,  etc.' " 

"August  30th,"  Mrs.  Horton  repeated,  mu- 
singly ;  "  let's  see,  this  is  the  15th.  You've  got 
two  weeks  and  a  day  yet  to  wait.  It  don't 
give  a  great  amount  of  time  to  get  money  in, 
but  it's  a  relief  to  know  when  it's  coming  off, 
isn't  it  ?" 

Joe  had  been  sitting  in  his  corner,  saying 
nothing,  but,  just  at  this  point,  I  saw  him  roll 
his  eyes  scornfully  at  our  neighbor,  and  won- 
dered if  it  could  be  that  the  old  man  was  jealous 
of  her  openly  expressed  interest  in  the  little 
family  to  which  he  laid  prior  claim.  "Yes," 
Jessie  said,  replying  to  Mrs.  Horton's  question  : 
"  It  is  a  great  relief,  and,  after  all,  we've  done 
about  all  that  we  can  to  make  ready  for  it." 

"  I'm  not  doubting  that,  still,  I  wish,  now 
that  we've  thought  of  it,  that  you  did  have 
time  to  earn  a  little  more  by  sewing.  How 
much  are  the  witnesses'  fees  ?" 

"  Six  dollars  each  ;  it  will  take  eighteen  dol- 
lars for  that  alone,"  Jessie  told  her. 

8 


114  TWO   WYOMING  GIRLS 

"Eighteen  dollars!  and  I  don't  suppose 
you  can  have  much  more  than  that  on  hand !" 
Mrs.  Horton's  face  lengthened.  "  I  wish  I  had 
it  to  lend  you,"  she  remarked,  at  last.  "  You 
could  pay  me  in  sewing ;  but  Jake — " 

We  had  heard  of  Mr.  Horton's  views  on  the 
money  question.  He  always  ran  bills  at  the 
store  because,  he  said,  a  woman  couldn't  be 
trusted  with  ready  cash.  "  Give  a  woman  her 
head  and  she'll  spend  all  a  man  has  on  knick- 
knacks  !"  was  an  observation  with  which  even 
his  chance  acquaintances  were  unduly  familiar. 
How  often,  then,  must  his  poor  wife  have 
heard  it. 

Pitying  her  halting  effort  to  give  a  good  ex- 
cuse for  not  having  the  sum  needed — when  they 
were  so  wealthy — and  still  loyally  shield  her 
tyrant,  I  said :  "I'm  sure  the  witnesses  will  not 
be  at  all  hard  on  us ;  they  will  be  willing  to  wait 
a  little  if  necessary,  don't  you  think  so,  Jessie  ?" 

But  before  Jessie  could  reply,  Joe  interposed  : 
"  Mr.  Wilson,  he  done  say  he  goin'  gib  me  a 
chance  for  to  wuck  for  him  w'en  I  wants  to ; 


AN  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT     115 

mebbe  I  goin'  want  ter  wuck  out  dem  witness 
fee ;  no  tellin'." 

This  was  ambiguous,  but  we  well  understood 
that  the  old  man  did  not  like  to  talk  of  business 
matters  before  strangers — as  he  regarded  every 
one  outside  the  immediate  family. 

"Your  first  notice  came  out  along  in  the 
spring,  didn't  it  ?"  Mrs.  Horton  inquired. 

"  In  April,"  Jessie  replied,  and  was  silent,  a 
dreamy  look  in  her  eyes,  while  I  vividly  re- 
called the  stormy  day  when  father  came  back 
from  a  visit  to  the  post-office  with  the  paper 
containing  the  first  notice  in  his  hand.  I  heard 
the  April  rain  beating  against  the  window  panes 
while  father  told  us  children — for  Jessie  and  I 
were  children  then  ;  it  was  so  long  ago,  measured 
by  heart-beats,  oh !  so  long  ago — that  our  no- 
tice was  out  and  the  witnesses  named. 

Joe  broke  a  little  silence  by  remarking: 
"  Dere's  ten  acres  ob  as  fine  w'eat  as  ebber 
growed  out  doahs,  a  waitin'  to  be  cut  an' 
threshed  atwixt  dat  day  an'  dis." 

"  Ten  acres !"  Mrs.  Horton  echoed.     "  What 


110  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

a  help  that'll  be  to  you !  I  do  hope  you'll  get 
it  taken  care  of  all  right." 

"  I'se  goin'  tek  keer  ob  hit ;  yo'  needn't  fur 
to  fret  about  dat.  I'se  goin'  at  hit,  hammer  an' 
tongs,  day  arter  to-morry  mornin'." 

"  Why  not  to-morrow  ?"  Jessie  inquired 
eagerly ;  "  Leslie  and  I  can  help  you." 

"  I  reckons  dere  can't  nobody  help  me  much 
w'eu  I'se  done  got  a  broken  reaper  to  wuck 
with." 

"  Oh,  that's  too  bad  !  How  long  will  it  take 
to  get  it  fixed  ?"  Jessie  asked. 

"  I'se  done  get  hit  fixed  to-morry,  sure,  den — 
we  see." 

"  Leslie  and  I  will  help  you,"  Jessie  repeated. 
"  The  wheat  is  worth  more  than  any  sewing  that 
we  can  do.  If  we  can  get  it  marketed  it  will 
pay  up  all  our  bills,  nearly,  won't  it,  Joe  ?" 

"  I  spec'  maybe  hit  will,  honey,"  Joe  returned, 
grinning  complacently.  "Do'an  you  chi'llen 
fret  about  nothin',"  he  continued  earnestly. 
"Dem  bills  all  goin'  be  paid  up,  clean  to  de 
handle." 


A3*  IMPORTANT  ANNOUNCEMENT     117 

I  confess  that  I  felt  far  less  sanguine  than  he 
appeared  to  be  on  that  point. 

"  Isn't  it  a  mercy  that  our  corn  and  wheat 
have  been  let  to  grow  in  peace  this  year  ?"  I 
said,  after  Mrs.  Horton  had  taken  her  leave. 
"  It's  the  first  year  since  we  have  been  here  that 
such  a  thing  has  happened." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  the  last  year  that  we  will 
have  to  try  raising  a  crop  without  a  fence," 
Jessie  replied.  For  our  fence  building  had 
stopped  abruptly  with  the  digging  of  some  post 
holes  on  that  day  in  April.  Pumping  the  water 
out  of  the  mine  had  been  an  expensive  piece  of 
work,  and  all  the  valley  people  who  had  lost 
relatives  in  the  accident,  many  who  had  not,  in- 
deed, had  come  gallantly  to  the  Gray  Eagle's 
aid  when  that  task  was  undertaken.  Because 
of  the  aid  that  we  had  furnished,  our  fence  was 
still  unbuilt. 


CHAPTER  X 

RALPH   AND   I   GO   BLACKBERRYING 

CHILLEN'S,  dere's  lots  ob  blackberries  on  de 
hill  above  de  w'eat  fiel',"  Joe  stopped  to  remark, 
as  lie  was  about  starting  for  the  blacksmith  shop 
with  the  reaper,  the  next  morning. 

"  They'll  have  to  stay  there  as  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned," returned  Jessie,  who  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  sewing  up  the  gaping  rents  in  Mr. 
Horton's  coat ;  "  I  haven't  time  to  gather 
them." 

"Me  do  det  'em!"  exclaimed  Ralph,  starting 
up  from  the  floor,  where  he  had  been  vainly 
trying  to  fasten  some  paper  boots  on  Guard's 
paws.  Guard  did  not  object,  but,  when  a  boot 
was,  after  much  trouble,  partially  secured,  lie 
took  it  in  his  mouth  and  calmly  pulled  it  off. 
"Me  do  dit  'ackburries  yite  now,"  reiterated 
Ralph. 

"  No,"  said  Jessie,  "  Ralphie  can't  go." 
118 


RALPH    AND    I    GO    BLACKBERRYIXG         119 

Thus  summarily  enjoined,  Ralph  began  to 
roar,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Joe,  who  had 
already  started  to  climb  into  the  reaper  seat, 
came  back  and  looked  in  at  the  door,  the  better 
to  look  reproachfully  at  us. 

"  I  do'an  like  dish  yer  sperrit  ob  money-get- 
tin',"  he  declared,  frowning.  "  Denyin'  a  little 
chile  all  his  innercent  pleasures  fo  de  sake  ob 
scrapin'  a  few  censes  togedder !"  he  exclaimed 
severely. 

Jessie  laughed,  with  a  suspicious  little  catch 
in  her  voice ;  it  was  hard  to  be  misunderstood, 
if  only  by  blundering,  faithful  old  Joe.  "  I 
really  must  not  spare  time  to  go  with  him, 
Joe,"  she  said  in  self-defense,  "  but  perhaps 
Leslie  had  better  go.  It  will  do  you  good,  dear," 
she  added,  mindful  of  my  inexplicable  paleness 
on  the  preceding  day. 

"  I  don't  need  being  done  good  to,  Jessie,  but 
evidently  Ralph  does,  so  I'll  take  him  out,"  I 
said,  while  old  Joe  nodded  approvingly. 

"  Dat's  right ;  dat's  right,  honey,  chile,"  he 
declared,  and  again  betook  himself  to  the  wait- 


120  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

ing  team  and  reaper.  Freed  from  the  danger 
of  being  compelled  to  wear  boots,  Guard  had 
gone  outside  and  placed  himself  by  the  door- 
step, where  he  was,  to  all  appearances,  peace- 
fully dozing  when  Joe  started.  But,  before  the 
team  had  turned  the  shoulder  of  the  nearest 
hill,  he  arose,  stretched  himself  lazily,  and 
trotted  slowly  down  the  road  after  them. 

Soon  after  Joe's  departure,  Ralph  and  I, 
baskets  in  hand,  started  for  the  blackberry 
patch.  Ralph's  basket  was  a  little  toy  candy 
pail,  which  he  assured  Jessie  he  should  bring  to 
her  "  filled  way  up  on  'e  top  wiv  hurries."  The 
blackberry  vines  grew  along  the  upper  edge  of 
the  wheat  field.  We  stopped  when  fairly  above 
the  field  to  admire  the  square  of  yellow  grain 
spread  out  below  us,  the  bended  heads  of  wheat 
nodding  and  swaying  in  the  light  breeze,  and 
the  tall  stalks  now  and  then  rippling  in  soft, 
undulating  waves,  as  if  a  gentle  wind  had 
moved  over  a  sea  of  gold.  Next  to  the  wheat 
stood  the  corn  in  file  after  file,  the  leaves  rus- 
tling and  the  tasseled  heads  held  bravely  aloft. 


RALPH    AND    I    GO   BLACKBERRYING        121 

Green  uniformed  soldiers  of  peace  and  plenty 
they  seemed  to  me,  bidding  defiance  to  want 
and  famine.  I  might  better  say  that  I  stopped 
to  admire  the  grain  fields,  for  Ralph  had  no 
aesthetic  enthusiasm.  His  one  desire  was  to 
reach  the  "  'ackburry  "  patch  and  begin  stuffing 
them  into  that  little  red  mouth  of  his. 

"  Turn  on,  'Essie,"  he  said,  tugging  at  my 
hand  impatiently  as  I  lingered.  "  He's  so 
hungry." 

"  Yes ;  it  must  be  half  an  hour  at  least  since 
you  had  breakfast,"  I  replied  unfeelingly,  but 
turning  my  back  on  the  fields  nevertheless  and 
hastening  on. 

There  were,  as  Joe  had  said,  lots  of  black- 
berries, as  we  found  on  reaching  the  spot.  I 
helped  Ralph  to  fill  his  little  bucket  and  he 
trudged  along  at  my  side,  eating  steadfastly, 
but  sometimes  suspending  even  that  fascinating 
employment  to  cling  to  my  skirts  and  shrink 
closer  to  me  as  we  came  upon  a  particularly 
luxuriant  cluster  of  vines.  They  were  so  tall 
and  arched  so  high  above  his  sunny  little  head, 


122  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

and  the  prickly  vines  extended  away  and  away 
in  vistas  that  must  have  seemed  so  endless  to 
his  small  stature  that  it  was  no  wonder  if  he  felt 
somewhat  overawed  at  times. 

We  were  well  up  on  the  hillside,  and  the  fields 
below  us  were  hidden  from  our  view,  when  he 
suddenly  announced  that  it  was  time  to  go  home. 

"  Oh,  no,  Ralph,"  I  said,  "  see,  sister  hasn't 
got  her  basket  nearly  full  yet.  Here's  some 
nice  large  berries ;  let  me  fill  your  bucket  again." 

"No;  'eys  sour.  Me  don't  like  'ackburries 
any  more !" 

"  I  don't  wonder !"  I  thought,  recalling  the 
number  of  times  that  I  had  filled  the  small 
bucket,  and  he  had  emptied  it,  but  I  remained 
discreetly  silent.  The  little  fellow  had  been 
humored  so  much  since  father's  death — and,  per- 
haps, before — that  the  moment  he  was  opposed 
he  cried,  so  now  he  began  to  whimper  forlornly  : 
"  Me  'ants  to  do  home,  'Essie  I" 

"What  for,  dear?" 

"Me'ss'eepy." 

That  appeared  very  probable,  too,  but  I  dis- 


RALPH    AND    I    GO    BLACKBEKRYING        123 

liked  to  return  with  a  half-filled  bucket  when 
the  berries  were  so  abundant  and  fairly  begging 
to  be  picked.  Looking  around,  inquiringly,  I 
saw,  under  a  clump  of  bushes  at  some  little 
distance,  an  inviting  carpet  of  cool  green  grass. 
Taking  the  child  in  my  arms  I  carried  him  over 
and  laid  him  down  on  the  grass,  putting  my 
apron  under  his  head  for  a  pillow.  "  There, 
Ralph,  isn't  that  nice  ?  I'll  stay  right  close  by 
you  and  you  can  sleep  here  in  the  bushes  like 
the  little  birds." 

Ralph  smiled  sleepily,  nestling  his  head 
closer  into  the  impromptu  pillow.  "  '  Ess,"  he 
murmured  drowsily,  "  'is  nice ;  now  me  is  a 
yittle  yay  bird."  He  meant  no  reflection  on 
himself  in  the  comparison.  His  acquaintance 
with  jay  birds  was  limited,  but  he  recognized 
them  when  he  met  them,  and  considered  them 
very  good  fellows.  The  cool  breeze  fanned  him  ; 
the  leaves  rustled,  their  airy  shadows  playing 
over  his  face,  and  Ralph  was  sound  asleep  almost 
as  soon  as  his  drowsy  eyes  closed.  I  watched 
him  for  a  moment  and  then  hastened  back  to 


124  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

my  chosen  corner  of  the  blackberry  patch  and 
resumed  picking. 

Unconsciously,  as  I  worked,  I  pressed  in 
among  the  tall  vines  until  at  length  the  recum- 
bent little  figure  on  the  grass  was  quite  hidden 
from  sight.  That  did  not  really  matter,  for  I 
was  easily  within  call.  No  sound  coming  from 
that  quarter  I  gradually  became  more  and  more 
absorbed  in  my  task.  It  would  be  very  nice,  I 
thought,  to  carry  a  brimming  bucket  full  of 
berries  down  to  the  house  on  my  return.  Once 
or  twice  I  suspended  operations  to  stand  still 
and  listen  under  the  startled  impression  that  I 
had  heard  some  unusual  noise.  Convinced  each 
time  that  there  was  nothing ;  that  I  was  mis- 
taken, I  continued  picking,  but  I  remember  that 
I  did  glance  up  once  at  the  cloudless  sky,  won- 
dering, in  an  idle  way,  why  I  should  have  heard 
thunder. 

The  bucket  was  quite  full  and  I  was  backing 
carefully  out  from  a  thick  cluster  of  canes,  hav- 
ing a  respectful  regard  for  their  sharp  thorns, 
when,  suddenly,  the  air  was  rent  with  a  wild 


RALPH  AXD  I  GO  BLACK  BERRYING    125 

shriek,  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  grassy 
plot  where  I  had  left  Ralph.  Shriek  after 
shriek  followed.  I  had  heard  those  high  pierc- 
ing notes  too  many  times  to  be  left  in  an  in- 
stant's doubt ;  the  shrieks  were  his.  Tearing 
my  way  out  of  the  bushes,  regardless  now  of 
thorns  and  scratches,  I  bounded  into  the  open. 
The  scene  that  presented  itself,  when  I  could 
get  a  view  of  what  was  going  on,  almost  took 
away  my  breath.  The  entire  hillside,  and  the 
fields  below,  were  literally  swarming  with  cattle. 
Not  the  tame  domestic  herds  of  peaceful  Eastern 
meadows,  but  the  wild,  long-horned,  compactly 
built,  active,  and  peculiarly  vicious  beasts  known 
in  Western  parlance  as  "  range  stock." 

Ralph  had  been  awakened,  none  too  soon, 
perhaps  by  the  trampling  of  hoofs,  perhaps  by 
the  low  bellowing  that  I  had  absently  attributed 
to  unseen  thunder  clouds.  However  it  was,  he 
had  started  up,  as  he  afterward  sobbingly  ex- 
pressed it,  "  To  make  'e  bad  tows  do  away,  so  'ey 
not  hurt  'Essie." 

In  pursuance  of  this  design  he  had  advanced 


126  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

toward  the  foremost  of  them,  shouting  and  wav- 
ing his  big  straw  hat  in  one  hand,  while  attempt- 
ing to  wave  my  apron  in  the  other.  The  apron 
was  long  and  he  was  short,  and  the  effort  to 
wave  it  in  self-defense  resulted  in  his  becoming 
wound  up  in  it,  falling,  and  rolling  bodily  down 
the  hillside,  in  the  face  of  some  half  dozen  wild- 
eyed  steers,  who  were  coming  up  it.  It  was  then 
that  he  screamed,  and  I  appeared  on  the  scene 
at  the  very  instant  that  one  of  the  steers,  awak- 
ening from  what  appeared  to  be  a  momentary 
trance  of  surprise,  advanced  toward  the  scream- 
ing little  bundle,  bellowing  and  pawing  the 
ground.  The  immense  black  head,  crowned 
with  a  pair  of  great  horns,  curving  like  a 
Turkish  scimiter,  and  with  a  point  as  keen,  was 
lowered;  the  savage  animal  was  on  the  very 
verge  of  charging  on  the  helpless  child,  when 
my  screams  drew  his  attention  toward  me.  He 
paused,  lifted  his  head,  stared  at  me,  and,  re- 
treating a  step  or  two,  began  pawing  the  ground 
again,  at  the  same  time  sending  forth  a  hoarse 
challenge  which  seemed  to  proclaim  his  readi- 


RALPH   AND    I   GO    BLACKBEKRYING        127 

ness  to  engage  me  and  all  my  race  in  a  hand  to 
horn  conflict  if  need  be.  His  bit  of  bovine 
bravado  had  given  me  time  to  reach  Ralph.  I 
caught  him  up  and  thrust  him  behind  me. 
Clutching  my  skirt  tightly,  he  brought  his  scared 
little  face  into  view  for  an  instant  to  exhort  me. 
"  Don't  'e  be  'fraid,  Essie,  me  knock  'e  pie  out 
o'  'at  bad  tow  if  her  touches  'oo !"  Then  he 
shrank  back,  creeping  under  the  friendly  shelter 
of  the  blackberry  canes  until  he  was,  as  I  after- 
ward found,  quite  lost  to  view.  It  all  took  place 
so  quickly  that  I  had  scarcely  time  to  realize  the 
danger  before  I  was  called  upon  to  act.  If  I 
had  turned  to  run,  in  the  first  instance,  the  great 
beast  would  have  been  upon  me,  and,  in  less 
time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  I  should  have  been 
ground  and  trampled  out  of  human  semblance. 
As  I  stood  my  ground  he  hesitated,  challenged 
again,  and,  as  others  of  the  herd  started  toward 
him,  charged. 

In  spite  of  the  signal  service  that  it  rendered 
me,  I  cannot  conscientiously  recommend  a  twelve- 
quart  tin  bucket,  filled  with  blackberries,  as  a 


128  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

reliable  weapon  of  defense.  There  would  be 
only  about  one  chance  in  a  hundred,  I  should 
think,  of  its  proving  useful  in  just  the  way  that 
mine  did.  When  the  steer  charged  I  was,  in 
fact,  quite  wild  with  terror  ;  it  was  instinct  alone 
that  prompted  me  to  attempt  a  defensive  use  of 
any  article  in  my  hands,  and  if  that  article  had 
been  a  feather  duster  I  should  have  made  the 
same  use  of  it.  The  lowered  head  and  sweep- 
ing horns  were  within  six  feet  of  me  when  I 
threw  blackberries,  pail  and  all,  full  in  the 
creature's  face,  at  the  same  time  giving  frantic 
voice  to  the  wild,  high-pitched,  long-drawn  cry 
that  the  cow-boys  use  in  rounding  up  their 
cattle.  The  blackberries  did  not  trouble  him  ; 
what  did  trouble  him  was  that,  by  one  chance 
in  a  hundred,  the  handle  or  bail  of  the  bucket 
caught  on  the  tip  of  one  horn,  and,  as  feel- 
ing it  and,  perhaps,  bewildered  by  the  rattle 
of  tinware,  the  steer  threw  up  his  head,  the 
bucket  slid  down  the  horn,  lodging  against  the 
skull,  and  wholly  obscuring  one  eye.  Un- 
daunted by  this  mishap  the  steer  backed  off, 


RALPH   AND    I    GO    BLACKBEKRYING        129 

lifting  his  head  high,  shaking  it  and  bellowing ; 
then  suddenly  he  lowered  it,  grinding  head  and 
horns  into  the  ground,  with  the  evident  intention 
of  pulverizing  the  strange  contrivance  rattling 
about  his  forehead.  The  attempt  resulted  in  his 
getting  his  nose  into  the  trap  where  only  a  horn 
had  been  before.  Maddened  with  fright  he  took 
to  his  heels,  careering  down  the  hillside,  and 
through  the  fields  at  top  speed,  followed  by  all 
the  herd. 

I  had  retreated,  of  course,  the  instant  that  I 
had  discharged  the  bucket  at  my  foe,  and  was 
cowering  under  the  canes  beside  Ralph  when  the 
finale  came. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   CATTLE   BRAND 

WE  were  saved,  but  my  heart  swelled  with 
grief  and  anger,  as,  creeping  out  from  our 
shelter,  I  stood  up  and  looked  down  on  what 
had  so  lately  been  a  field  of  waving  grain,  ripe 
for  the  harvest. 

Torn,  trampled,  beaten  into  the  earth,  scarcely 
a  stalk  was  left  standing,  and  the  corn  field  was 
in  no  better  shape.  Poor  little  Ralph,  with  a 
dim,  childish  comprehension  of  the  calamity 
that  had  befallen  us,  was  crying  bitterly.  Lift- 
ing him  to  my  shoulder  I  started  toward  the 
house,  the  desolated  fields  were  out  of  sight  be- 
hind us,  when  Jessie  came  hurrying  up  the 
trail. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  inquired  anx- 
iously. "I  thought  I  heard  Ralph  scream, 
and  I  am  sure  I  heard  you  giving  the  round-up 
call ;  I  thought  I  heard  cattle,  too."  She  took 
130 


THE    CATTLE    BRAND  131 

Ralph,  who  was  still  crying,  from  iny  shoulder 
and  carried  him  in  her  arms.  "  Don't  cry, 
precious,"  she  said.  "  Tell  sister  what  has 
frightened  you?" 

"  'Essie  frowed  all  'e  'ackburries  at  'e  bad 
tow,  an'  'e  bad  tows  walked  all  over  our  pitty  torn 
'talks,  so  'ey  don't  'tan'  up  no  more,"  he  sobbed 
incoherently.  Jessie  looked  at  me  with  dilating 
eyes.  We  were  by  this  time  entering  the  house, 
where  I  was  not  surprised  to  find  Mrs.  Horton 
again  awaiting  us,  for  I  had  already  observed 
the  Horton  equipage  in  the  front  yard. 

"  Leslie  !"  Jessie  was  exclaiming,  as  we  crossed 
the  threshold.  "  Don't  tell  me  that  the  cattle 
have  been  in  our  fields  ;  it  isn't  possible !" 

"  I  guess  it  is,"  I  said  recklessly,  unreason- 
ably resenting  our  neighbor's  placid  face.  "  If 
you  find  it  hard  to  believe,  just  go  and  look  for 
yourself.  There  isn't  a  stalk  of  grain  left 
standing,"  and  I  proceeded  to  give  the  details  of 
my  late  adventure  and  experience. 

Jessie  seemed  like  one  dazed.  She  sank  into  a 
chair,  holding  Ralph,  who  was  willing,  for  once, 


132  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

to  be  held,  tightly  in  her  arms,  and  spoke  never 
a  word. 

"  What  I  want  to  know,"  cried  Mrs.  Horton, 
her  face  fiery  with  indignation,  "  is,  whose  cattle 
were  they  ?  It's  a  low  shameful,  mean,  trick  ; 
I  don't  care  who  did  it !  Oh,  to  think  of  all 
you've  had  to  suffer,  and  of  all  that  those  fields 
of  grain  stood  for  to  you,  and  then  to  think — I 
don't  feel  as  if  I  could  hear  it !"  she  hroke  off, 
abruptly,  her  voice  choking.  I,  avoiding  her 
eyes,  looked  out  of  the  window  through  which 
I  saw,  indeed,  only  the  trampled  fields,  invisible 
to  any  but  the  mind's  eye  from  that  window. 

"  I  hope  you  can  collect  damages,"  Mrs. 
Horton  broke  out  again  ;  "  and  I  guess  you  can 
if  you  can  prove  the  ownership  of  the  cattle. 
Did  you  notice  the  brand  ?" 

Feigning  not  to  have  heard  the  question,  I 
still  gazed  silently  out  of  the  window,  but  Mrs. 
Horton  was  not  to  be  put  off  so  easily  ;  she  re- 
peated the  inquiry,  her  voice  suddenly  grown 
sharp  with  anxiety.  "  Did  you  notice  the  brand, 
Leslie?" 


THE   CATTLE    BRAND  133 

"  Yes." 

"Well?" 

She  would  not  be  put  off,  and,  for  a  wicked 
moment,  my  heart  was  hot  against  all  that  bore 
her  husband's  name. 

"  The  brand  was,  '  R,  half-circle,  A,'  "  I  said, 
and  bolted  out  of  the  house  to  hide  myself  and 
my  boiling  indignation  in  the  hayloft,  but,  as  I 
went,  I  heard  Mrs.  Horton  sobbing  out  an  ex- 
planation to  Jessie : 

"Jake  started  out  early  this  morning,  long 
before  sun-up,  it  was,  to  drive  the  cattle  from 
the  upper  range  to  the  north  pasture — he  said. 
I  told  him  I  was  afraid  that  he  couldn't  handle 
such  a  big  bunch  alone — there's  nigh  three 
thousand  of  them,  if  there's  a  dozen — but  he 
thought  that  he  could,  and  they  must  have  got 
away  from  him  after  all !" 

Jessie  made  no  comment,  but  lying  at  full 
length  in  the  seclusion  of  the  hayloft,  I  thought 
of  the  relative  positions  of  the  upper  range,  where 
Mr.  Horton's  cattle  usually  grazed,  and  the  north 
pasture,  and  knew  that,  in  order  to  reach  our 


134  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

fields,  the  herd  must  have  "  strayed  "  at  least 
five  miles  out  of  their  proper  course. 

I  was  still  lying  in  the  hayloft  when,  as  my 
ears  informed  me,  Mrs.  Horton  came  out,  climbed 
soberly  into  her  wagon,  and  drove  away.  With 
my  eyes  shut  I  still  seemed  to  see  her  drooping 
head  and  shamed  face.  I  had  so  far  recovered 
my  reason  by  this  time  that  I  could  feel  for  her ; 
she  believed  in  her  husband.  He  would  soon 
be  able  to  convince  her  that  what  had  occurred 
was  due  to  an  unavoidable  accident ;  the  cattle 
had  broken  away  from  their  one  herder,  and 
she  would  expend  her  indignation  on  the  fact 
that  he  had  attempted  to  drive  them  alone,  and 
— she  would  try  to  make  him  pay  damages. 
She  would  fail.  One  did  not  need  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  her  husband  to  know  that. 

The  sound  of  approaching  wheels  aroused  me 
from  my  unhappy  meditations.  Joe  was  re- 
turning. I  sprang  up,  slid  down  the  ladder,  and 
went  out  into  the  yard  to  meet  him.  Mr.  Wilson, 
the  ranchman,  who  was  to  be  one  of  our  wit- 
nesses, was  with  him.  Joe  had  found  him  at 


THE   CATTLE    BRAND  135 

the  blacksmith  shop,  and,  as  his  homeward  route 
led  past  our  house,  had  invited  him  to  ride  with 
him.  The  two  were  talking  earnestly  as  the 
horses  stopped  before  the  barn  door.  Mr.  Wilson 
had  been  away  from  home  for  some  weeks,  and 
we  had  been  somewhat  worried  lest  he  should 
not  return  in  time  for  our  proving  up.  Evi- 
dently Joe  had  just  been  telling  him  this,  for,  as  I 
came  near  them,  he  was  saying  in  his  hearty 
way  :  "  No,  sir ;  your  young  ladies  needn't  'a' 
been  a  mite  worried  for  fear  of  my  not  getting 
around  in  time.  I  was  bound  to  come  when 
they  wanted  me,  and  wife's  been  keeping  me 
posted  about  their  notice.  I  told  her  I'd  leave 
whatever  I  had  on  hand  and  come  in  time, 
whether  or  no."  He  was  a  large  man.  Joe 
had  resigned  the  reaper  seat  to  him  and  had 
ridden  home  himself  standing  on  one  of  the 
cross-bars.  He  was  slowly  and  cautiously  back- 
ing down  from  the  high  seat  as  I  stopped  beside 
the  reaper.  When  his  feet  were  fairly  on  the 
ground  he  turned  to  greet  me :  "  Why,  what's 
been  happening  to  you,  little  girl  ?  Joe,  you 


136  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

didn't  tell  me  that  one  of  your  young  ladies  was 
sick!" 

Joe  had  begun  unharnessing  the  team  ;  he 
was  tying  up  the  lines,  but  dropped  them  as  Mr. 
Wilson  spoke,  and  came  around  to  my  side ; 
just  then,  too,  Jessie  joined  us;  she  stood  with 
one  hand  on  old  Joe's  shoulder,  while  I  again 
told  of  the  incursion  of  cattle  on  our  fields.  I 
think  that  she  feared  some  terrible  outburst  of 
rage  from  the  old  man  who  had  toiled  so  faith- 
fully in  those  fields,  and  had  taken  such  honest 
pride  in  the  rich  promise  of  an  abundant  har- 
vest. If  so,  her  fears  were  groundless.  Joe's 
sole  remark,  as  he  went  on  with  the  work  of 
caring  for  the  horses,  was : 

"Mougkt  jess  as  well  a'  spared  de  trouble  ob 
gettin'  de  reaper  fixed,  hit  'pears." 

Instinctively,  I  felt  that  he  was  so  sure,  he 
understood  so  well  by  whose  agency  the  ruin 
had  been  wrought  that  he  disdained  to  ask  a 
question.  What  had  taken  place  was  simply  a 
thing  to  be  borne,  like  martyrdom. 

But  Mr.  Wilson  was  not  committed  to  a  policy 


THE   CATTLE   BRAXD  137 

of  silence  ;  he  had  a  good  deal  to  say,  and  what 
he  said  was  directly  to  the  point. 

"  Crops  plumb  ruined,  you  say,  Miss  Leslie?" 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  entirely  ;  I  think  the  whole  herd 
must  have  been  there ;  not  feeding  quietly  so 
much  as  tearing  through — " 

"  You  say  the  whole  herd  ?  Know  of  any 
herd,  now,  that  you  could  spot?" 

"  It  was  Mr.  Horton's  herd ;  we  all  know  his 
brand." 

"  R,  half-circle,  A ;  yes.  Now,  young  folks," 
— he  paused  to  roll  his  eyes  impressively  from 
one  to  the  other  of  us — "  I'll  tell  you  what  you 
want  to  do  about  this  affair.  You  want  to  keep 
still ;  to  keep  still !" 

"  And  be  ruined !"  cried  Jessie,  her  eyes 
flashing. 

"And  not  be  ruined  !  There's  where  the  fun's 
going  to  come  in,  Miss  Jessie.  'Spose  you  go 
to  work  now  to  try  to  prove  malicious  mischief 
on  the  part  of  Horton  in  driving  his  cattle  into 
your  fields,  for  that's  what  he's  deliberately 
done,  no  doubt  of  that,  why  all  he's  got  to  do 


138  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

is  to  take  his  stand  on  the  law  and  say  that  you 
had  no  business  to  sow  grain  on  the  range  and 
expect  cattle  to  keep  out  of  it ;  you've  no  title 
to  this  place,  and  your  grain  fields  are  not  even 
fenced.  Horton's  got  the  law  on  his  side,  you 
may  be  sure  of  that,  but  he  hasn't  got  the  right, 
and  some  day  he'll  find  it  out ;  he'll  find  it  out 
to  his  cost,  no  matter  what  the  law  says,  now 
you  mark  my  words !" 

"  There  hasn't  been  a  year  since  we've  been 
here  that  Mr.  Horton's  cattle — always  Mr.  Hor- 
ton's cattle — haven't  destroyed  our  crops," 
Jessie  said,  her  voice  trembling. 

"And  it  has  always  been  an  'accident,'  "  I 
added,  "  but  I  did  think  that  maybe  there  would 
be  no  such  accident  this  year ;  it  couldn't  have 
occurred  at  a  time  when  it  would  be  more  effec- 
tive." 

"  No,  you  may  count  on  that;  that's  just  the 
reason  why  it  hasn't  taken  place  before  this. 
Now,  the  rest  of  us  folks  around  here  don't  pro- 
pose to  see  you  two  girls  and  that  purty  little 
orphan  boy  drove  off'  of  this  place  that  you've 


THE   CATTLE    BRAND  139 

tried  so  hard  and  so  bravely  to  keep,  but  we've 
all  got  to  sing  low  until  you  get  your  title. 
Then,  Mr.  Man,  let  that— well,  I  won't  call 
names — -just  let  Mr.  Horton  try  his  little  games 
and  he'll  find  that  there  are  laws  that  will  fit 
his  case.  The  reasons  that  that  man  hasn't 
landed  in  the  penitentiary  before  this  are,  first, 
that  the  Lord  was  mighty  lenient  toward  him 
when  he  went  a  courtiu'  and  induced  that  good 
woman  to  become  his  wife ;  second,  he's  so  sly. 
There's  never  been  a  time  yet  when  a  body 
could  produce  direct,  damaging  evidence  against 
him.  It's  all '  accident.'  " 

I  thought  of  that  small  shining  object  that  I 
had  picked  up  in  the  rubbish  the  morning  after 
the  fire  was  set  under  our  window.  It  would 
have  been  hard,  indeed,  to  produce  more  dam- 
aging or  convincing  evidence  than  that,  but  Mr. 
Wilson  had  just  been  enjoining  a  strict  silence 
in  regard  to  Mr.  Horton  and  his  works  upon  us, 
so  I  kept  the  thought  to  myself. 

"  Your  father  was  a  good  man,"  Mr.  Wilson 
continued.  "  He  had  one  big  advantage  over 


140  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Horton  from  the  start — he  was  able  to  hold  both 
his  tongue  and  his  temper  even  when  Horton,  by 
his  acts,  kept  him  so  short-handed  that  he  was 
unable  to  build  the  fence  that  would  have  saved 
his  crops  and  so  helped  to  defeat  Horton.  The 
fencing  will  cost  about  three  hundred  dollars. 
When  I  sold  off  that  big  bunch  of  steers,  two 
years  ago,  I  offered  to  lend  him  money  to  fence 
his  claim,  but,  no  sir,  he  wouldn't  touch  a  cent 
— seemed  to  have  a  kind  of  prejudice  agin'  bor- 
rowing money,  even  of  me.  Another  thing 
about  Horton  is,"  went  on  our  friend,  who 
seemed  to  have  made  an  exhaustive  study  of  his 
subject,  "  that  he  must  brag  about  what  he's  go- 
ing to  do  before  he  does  it.  That's  how  every 
one  knows,  in  reason,  that  he  is  the  one  who  has 
made  you  all  this  trouble.  He  hasn't  scrupled 
to  say  that  he's  bound  to  have  this  place,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  whatever  happens — and  so  he 
looks  out  for  it  that  things  happen.  But  there 
is  one  thing  that  I  will  say  for  him,  and  it's  kind 
of  curious,  too — let  him  once  be  fairly  and 
squarely  beaten,  so  that  there's  no  way  but  for 


THE    CATTLE    BRAND  141 

him  to  own  up  to  it,  and  you  needn't  ask  for  a 
better  or  more  faithful  friend  than  he  is ;  but 
he's  like — "  Mr.  Wilson  lifted  his  hat  and 
scratched  his  grizzled  head,  casting  about  for  a 
simile  ;  his  eye  fell  on  Guard.  "  Why,  he's 
like  a  bull-dog,  you  might  say — he'll  hang  on 
until  beaten,  and  then  he's  yours  to  command 
ever  after." 

Jessie  was  greatly  cast  down  ;  she  looked  at 
Guard  and  accepted  the  simile  mournfully. 

"  There's  no  hope  of  our  ever  being  able  to 
do  anything  that  will  make  him  admit  himself 
beaten,"  she  said,  "  so,  I  suppose,  we  must  resign 
ourselves  to  enduring  his  enmity  as  best  we 
can." 

"I  ain't  calculating  on  his  keeping  up  this 
racket  after  you  get  your  title,"  Mr.  Wilson 
declared,  hopefully ;  "  he's  dead  set  on  getting 
this  land  now.  He's  made  his  brags  that  he 
would  have  it,  but  when  it's  once  passed  out  of 
his  reach,  he'll  kind  of  tame  down,  I'm  thinking. 
Now,  about  your  fences,"  he  continued,  with  a 
sudden,  cheery  change  of  tone  :  "  they're  going 


142  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

up.  Don't  you  worry  about  the  loss  of  your 
crop,  but  Joe,  you  just  whirl  in  and  go  to 
plowing  those  fields  again  for  fall  wheat ;  noth- 
ing better  for  raising  money  on  than  fall  wheat ; 
and  by  the  time  it's  sprouted,  we'll  have 
it  fenced,  snug  and  tight ;  we  will,  if  I  have  to 
mortgage  my  farm  to  do  it !  But  I  shan't  have 
to  do  that.  I  can  raise  the  money  for  you 
somehow." 

Jessie  was  sitting  on  the  wagon-tongue. 
She  looked  gratefully  up  into  the  ranchman's 
weather-beaten  face. 

"  I  think  you're  just  awful  good,  Mr.  Wilson, 
but — would  it  be  right  for  us  to  let  you  lend  us 
the  money  when  we  know  how  opposed  poor 
father  was  to  anything  of  that  kind?" 

This  was  a  vital  question.  I  leaned  forward, 
awaiting  the  answer,  while  Jessie  listened  with 
parted  lips,  as  she  might  if  our  good  neighbor 
had  been  some  ancient  oracle,  whose  lightest 
word  was  law.  Mr.  Wilson  regarded  us  stead- 
fastly for  a  moment,  then  scratched  his  head 
again. 


THE   CATTLE   BRAND  143 

"  Well,"  lie  said  slowly,  at  last, "  I  s'pose,  set- 
ting aside  all  questions  of  circumstances,  that 
when  the  Bible  said  :  '  Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother  in  the  days  of  thy  youth,'  it  meant  to 
reach  clean  down  to  the  things  that  your  parents 
wanted  you  to  do — or  not  to  do — whether  they 
was  alive  to  see  it  done  or  not.  I  do  s'pose  that 
that  was  what  it  means,  and  your  father  he  was 
sure  set  against  borrowing." 

Stooping,  he  picked  up  a  straw,  and  began 
biting  it  meditatively,  while  we  two  pondered 
his  plain  interpretation  of  a  very  plain  text. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  the  straw,  and  looked  at 
us  with  a  brightening  face : 

"  Why,  say,  you  can  give  a  mortgage  on  your 
own  land,  when  you  get  your  title,  and  your 
father,  nor  the  Bible,  nor  nobody  else,  would  say 
there  was  anything  wrong  in  your  neighbor's 
helping  you  out,  if  so  be  that  you  couldn't  lift 
the  mortgage  when  the  time  come.  Not  that 
there'll  be  any  danger  of  that,  with  the  price 
that  wheat  always  brings  in  this  grazing 
country." 


144  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

He  went  away  shortly  after,  leaving  us  much 
comforted.  Joe  had  housed  the  un-needed 
reaper  in  the  shed  and  was  examining  the  plow 
before  he  had  been  gone  an  hour.  Some  bolts 
needed  tightening  and  Jessie  offered  her  services 
as  assistant. 

"  We'll  get  ahead  of  Mr.  Horton  yet !"  she 
exclaimed,  hammering  away  at  the  head  of  the 
bolt  that  she  was  manipulating,  under  Joe's  di- 
rection, as  vigorously  as  though  it  might  have 
been  the  head  of  the  gentleman  in  question. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ON    THE    TKATL    OF    A    WILDCAT 

JOE  went  at  the  plowing  the  next  morning 
and  kept  at  it  with  dogged  perseverance  for  sev- 
eral days.  Jessie  and  I,  busy  with  the  sewing, 
at  first  paid  little  attention  to  him,  but  after  a 
few  days  the  look  of  settled  exasperation  on  his 
sable  countenance,  as  he  returned  to  the  house 
at  the  close  of  his  day's  work,  drew  my  atten- 
tion. 

"  Joe,"  I  said  to  him  one  morning,  as  he  was 
about  starting  for  the  field,  "  what  is  the  matter  ? 
You  look  discouraged." 

"  I  am'  discouraged,  so  my  looks  is  deceivin', 
den ;  but  I  is  kine  o'  wore  out  in  my  patience." 

"  Why  ;  what  about  ?" 

"  Hit's  dat  'ar   Frank  horse ;  nothin'  gwine 

ter  do  him,  but  he  mus'  stop  in  de  furrer,  ebbery 

few  ya'ahds,  an'  tun  aroun'  in  de  ha'ness  ter  look 

at  me.     'Pears   like  he   can'  be   satisfy  dat  I 

10  145 


146  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

knows  my  own  business,  but  he's  got  to  obersee 
hit.  Hit  done  gets  mighty  worrisome  afore  de 
day's  out,"  he  concluded  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"  Why  don't  you  whip  him  for  it  ?"  demanded 
Jessie  indignantly. 

"Wip  nuffiu'1  Hes  a  saddle  hoss;  he's 
nebber  been  call'  on  fer  to  do  such  wuck  afore, 
an'  he  doan  know  what  hit  means." 

"  I  guess  if  he  attended  to  his  business  he'd 
find  out  in  time,"  Jessie  insisted.  But  Frank, 
whatever  other  faults  he  had,  had  none  under 
the  saddle  ;  he  was,  moreover,  old  Joe's  especial 
pet.  One  of  the  work  horses  had  died  during 
the  preceding  winter,  which  was  the  reason  that 
this  one  was  called  upon  to  perform  labor  that 
he  evidently  regarded  with  distrust,  if  not  active 
disapproval. 

So  now  the  old  man  replied  to  Jessie's  obser- 
vation with  unusual  sharpness : 

"  De  whole  worl'  is  plum'  full  ob  plow  hosses, 
so  fur's  I  kin  see.  Yo'  done  meets  'em  on  de 
road,  and  in  de  chu'ch  and  de  town  meetin's, 
and  on  de  ranches  ;  yes,  sir  ;  yo'  kin  fine  a  plow 


ON   THE   TRAIL   OF   A   WILDCAT  147 

hoss  twenty  times  a  day  where  yo'  meets  up  wid 
a  saddle  boss  once  in  six  mont's  w'at  is  a  saddle 
hoss,  and  not  a  saw-hoss  wif  a  bridle  on.  Ef 
somebody's  got  fer  to  poun'  dat  Frank  fer  to 
make  him  drag  a  plow  arouii',  hit'll  be  some- 
body odder  dan  me  w'at  does  hit !  I  done  cut 
dem  wicked  ole  clumsy  blinders,  w'at  is  a  relict 
ob  ba'barism,  ef  dere  ebber  was  one,  offen  his 
bridle,  so'st  dem  bright  eyes  ob  his'n  kin  see 
w'ats  goin'  on  erroun'him,  an'  now  I  ain'  gwine 
spile  a  good  saddle  hoss  ter  make  a  poor  plow 
hoss.  Hit's  too  much  like  tryin'  ter  make  a 
eagle  inter  a  tame  ole  goose,"  the  old  man  con- 
cluded soberly. 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  give  up 
the  fall  plowing,  just  on  account  of  Frank's 
whims!"  Jessie  retorted,  nettled. 

"  No,"  Joe  returned  patiently  ;  "  I'se  done 
gwine  ter  keep  at  hit,  we's  get  hit  done  some- 
how ;  if  not  dis  year,  den  de  nex'.  I  'clarfur  hit, 
sometimes  I  clone  been  tempted  fur  t'  hitch  one 
ob  de  cow  beasts  up  along  o'  Bill  an'  tryin'  de 
plowiu'  dat  way." 


148  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"  Isn't  there  some  way  of  making  Frank  keep 
straight  without  whipping  him  ?"  I  asked,  my 
sympathies  heing  about  equally  divided  between 
man  and  horse. 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  done  thought  a  hun'nerd  times 
dat  ef  dere  was  only  some  small,  active  boy  w'at 
would  ride  him  whilst  I — " 

I  sprang  to  my  feet,  tossing  aside  the  pieces 
of  gingham  that  were  destined  to  form  a  new 
shirt  for  Mr.  Horton  :  "  Here  am  I,  Joe,  take 
me!" 

"  You  !"  Joe's  mild  eyes  looked  me  over,  and 
gleamed  approvingly.  "  You  is  little,  you  is 
active,  an'  yo'  has  de  bravest  heart,  and  de  un- 
selfishest  sperret — "  he  said,  half  soliloquizing, 
until  I  interposed,  laughingly  : 

"  Come,  now !  Stop  calling  me  names  and  say 
that  I'll  do!" 

"  Dat  yo'  will,  honey,  chile,  but  I  nebber 
thought  ob  askin'  yo'  to  do  sech  wuck  as  dat ! 
Hit  ain'  fittin'  nohow  !" 

"  Fitting !  Anything  is  fitting  that  is  honest, 
and  will  help  us  out,  Joe.  Still,  I  am  rather  glad 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  A  WILDCAT     149 

that  the  fields  are  quite  out  of  sight  from  the 
road." 

"  Dat's  w'at  dey  is.  Come  on,  den.  Frank 
gwine  wuck  like  a  hero,  now,  'cause  he  done 
think  hit's  saddle  wuck  w'at  he's  a  doin'." 

"  And  I'll  work  all  the  harder  at  the  sewing," 
Jessie  said,  smiling  approval  of  this  novel  ar- 
rangement, and  hastily  rescuing  Mr.  Horton's 
unfinished  shirt  from  Guard,  who  had  been  try- 
ing to  utilize  it  for  a  bed.  "  There,  now,  see 
that !"  she  added,  looking  at  me  reproachfully. 
"How  could  you  be  so  careless,  Leslie?  Guard 
has  been  lying  on  Mr.  Horton's  new  shirt !" 

"  It  is  new,  and  Mr.  Horton  has  never  worn 
it,  so  I  don't  think  it  will  contaminate  Guard," 
I  retorted,  perversely,  as  I  turned  to  follow  Joe, 
who  had  already  started  for  the  fields. 

With  me  perched  upon  his  back,  the  long, 
awkward,  pulling  lines  discarded,  and  his  move- 
ments directed  by  a  gentle  touch  of  the  bridle 
reins  against  the  side  of  his  neck,  Frank  worked, 
as  Joe  had  said  he  would,  like  a  hero.  The 
other  horse,  being  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit, 


150  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

had  made  no  trouble  from  the  outset ;  he  was 
content  to  follow  Frank's  lead,  so  we  got  ou 
famously  with  the  plowing  from  the  day  that  I 
was  installed  as  postillion. 

"  I  always  supposed  that  plowing  was  such  a 
monotonous  kind  of  business,"  I  remarked  to 
Joe  one  day,  taking  advantage  of  the  oppor- 
tunity offered  by  his  stopping  the  team  to  wipe 
away  the  perspiration  that  was  streaming  down 
my  face.  For  the  day  was  very  warm,  and  we 
had  been  working  steadily. 

"  If  mon'tonus  means  hot,  honey  chile,  I 
reckons  yo's  right,"  responded  Joe.  "  Yo's 
purty  face  is  a  sight  to  behole ;  red  as  a  turkey 
cock's  comb,  hit  is,  an'  dat  streaked  wif  dirt  dat 
dey  doan  nuffin'  show  natteral  but  yo'  eyes." 

"One  good  thing,  Joe,  I  can't  look  any 
dirtier  than  I  feel,"  I  replied  wearily,  and  with 
a  longing  glance  toward  the  river  that  rippled 
silver-white  and  cool  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  be- 
neath us.  Joe  saw  the  glance. 

"  Hoi'  on,  honey,"  he  exclaimed,  as  I  was 
about  starting  the  team  again.  "  Dere's  de  lines 


WE  GOT  ON   FAMOUSLY   WITH   THE   PLOUGHING 
(Page  150) 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  A  WILDCAT     151 

looped  up  on  the  back  band ;  I'll  jess  run  'em 
out  an'  finish  up  dish  yer  bit  alone." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  ?"  I  asked,  wavering 
between  a  longing  to  rest  and  my  sense  of  duty. 

"  T'iuk  I  kin  ?  Dat's  good,  now  !  Yo'  run 
along  down  to  de  ribber  an'  hab  a  good  paddle 
afore  hit  gits  too  late." 

Accordingly  I  slid  off  of  Frank's  back  while 
Joe,  gathering  in  the  slack  of  the  lines,  clucked 
encouragingly  to  him  to  go  on.  Instead  of  do- 
ing that  the  horse  wheeled  around  in  the  furrow 
until  he  had  brought  my  retreating  figure  into 
view,  then  stopped  and  gazed  inquiringly  after 
ine. 

"Joe,"  I  called  back,  halting,  "maybe  I'd 
better  not  leave." 

"  Yo' jess  run  right  erlong,  Miss  Leslie,honey ; 
dis  boss  gwine  ter  go  all  right  jess  soon's  he 
make  up  he  mine  whar  yo'  is  gwine." 

Glancing  back  again  presently,  I  found  that 
Joe  was  right.  Frank  was  working  with  prom- 
ising sedateness. 

It  was  deliciously  cool  down  underneath  the 


152  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

shadow  of  the  cliff,  on  the  banks  of  the  shallow, 
bright  river.  Guard  had  followed  me  from  the 
field ;  he,  too,  enjoyed  the  cool  water  and  pro- 
ceeded to  make  the  most  of  it.  After  I  had 
bathed  my  hot  face  and  hands  I  sat  on  the  bank 
and  watched  him  as  he  splashed  about,  making 
sudden,  futile  darts  at  the  tiny  fish  that  swarmed 
around  him  when  he  was  quiet,  and  went  scur- 
rying away  like  chaff  before  the  wind,  the  in- 
stant that  he  moved.  I  had  just  risen  to  my 
feet,  intending  to  start  to  the  house,  when  Guard 
suddenly  sprang  out  of  the  water  with  a  growl. 
At  the  same  instant  the  direful  squawking 
of  a  frightened  chicken  broke  on  my  ears.  The 
squawking,  close  at  hand  at  first,  receded  rap- 
idly. Evidently  some  animal  had  caught  one 
of  our  flock  of  poultry  and  was  making  off  with 
its  prize. 

There  was  a  wildness  of  rocks  and  gnarled 
cedar  trees  on  the  steep  mountain  slope  above 
us,  just  beyond  the  bend  in  the  river,  and  to- 
ward this  wild  quarter,  judging  by  the  outcries 
— fast  lessening  in  the  distance — the  animal, 


OX  THE  TRAIL  OF  A  WILDCAT     153 

whatever  it  might  be,  was  bearing  its  prey.  I 
was  drenched  with  a  shower  of  water  drops  as 
Guard  shot  past  me,  taking  the  trail  with  an 
eager  yelp,  while  I,  no  less  eager,  and  with 
as  little  reflection,  ran  after  him.  The  dog 
had  cleared  the  underbrush  on  the  river 
bank,  as  I  rushed  out,  and  was  racing  across 
the  little  interval,  or  clear  space  between 
the  river  bank  and  the  first  jumble  of  rocks 
where  the  abrupt  rise  of  the  mountain  slope 
began.  Just  in  front  of  him,  so  close  it  seemed 
the  next  leap  would  surely  enable  him  to  seize 
the  creature,  glided,  rather  than  ran,  so  swift 
and  stealthy  was  the  motion,  some  large  animal, 
bearing  a  white  chicken  in  its  mouth.  A  tiny 
trail  of  white  feathers  drifted  backward  as 
the  animal  ran,  while  the  helpless  white  wings 
beat  the  air  frantically  on  either  side  of  the 
unyielding  jaws. 

The  poor  chick  might  be  badly  hurt,  but  it 
could  still  squawk  and  struggle.  Indignation 
gave  me  renewed  strength.  I  ran  forward, 
shouting,  "Sic  him,  Guard,  sic  him  !"  and  the 


154  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

next  instant  my  foot  caught  under  a  projecting 
root  and  I  fell  headlong  to  the  ground.  It 
really  seemed  for  a  blank  space  as  if  my  fall 
must  have  jarred  the  earth.  There  was  a  whirl- 
ing dance  of  stars  all  about  my  head ;  the 
ground  rolled  and  heaved  underneath  me ;  sky, 
earth,  and  trees  swam  together,  joining  that 
whirling  dance  of  stars.  It  must  have  been  a 
full  minute  before  I  was  able  to  sit  up  and 
weakly  wonder  what  had  happened.  It  all  came 
back  to  me  as  a  cold,  moist  nose  touched  my 
hand  and  a  sympathetic  whimper  broke  the 
silence.  I  turned  on  Guard  reproachfully. 

"  Why  did  you  leave  that  thing  to  come  back 
to  me,  sir  ?  You  could  have  caught  it  if  you 
had  kept  right  on  after  it,  and  you  might  have 
known  I'd  get  along  all  right  without  your  help. 
Now,  do  you  go  and  find  it,  sir!"  and  I  pointed 
imperatively,  if  rather  vaguely,  towards  the  jum- 
ble of  rocks.  The  chicken's  cries  had  ceased  ; 
there  was  now  nothing  to  guide  the  dog,  even*  if 
he  understood,  which  I,  having  great  faith  in 
his  intelligence,  believed  he  did.  He  ran  along 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OP  A  'WILDCAT     155 

the  trail  fora  few  yards,  stopped,  gave  a  joyful 
bark,  and  caine  running  back  to  me  with  a  stick 
in  his  mouth. 

I  had  been  trying  to  teach  him  to  retrieve, 
and  my  order,  "  go  find  it,"  suggested  that  pas- 
time to  him.  When  he  laid  the  stick  at  my 
feet,  wagging  his  tail  and  looking  up  in  hopeful 
anticipation  of  the  praise  that  he  felt  to  be  his 
due,  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  withhold 
it.  Besides,  the  chicken  thief  was,  no  doubt, 
safe  in  his  lair  at  this  time,  so,  abandoning  the 
hopeless  pursuit,  we  made  our  way  homeward. 

When  Joe  came  in,  and  I  related  our  ad- 
venture to  him,  he  said :  "  Yo'  may  t'auk  yo' 
sta'hs,  Miss  Leslie,  dat  yo'  done  got  dat  tumble 
w'en  yo'  did!  Dat  feller  wif  de  black  coat, 
trimmed  in  yeller,  was  a  lynx — dat's  hisn's 
dress  ebbery  time — an'  I'd  'a'  heap  rudder 
meet  up  wif  a  mountain  lion,  any  day,  dan 
one  V  dem  ar !  Land,  chile !  Ef  hit  had  V 
been  me,  down  dar  by  de  ribber,  I'd  'a'  belt 
Guard  to  keep  him  still,  an'  I'd  'a'  kep'  out  o' 
sight.  Dat's  w'at  I'd  'a'  done,  honey." 


156  TWO"  WYOMING   GIRLS 

"Do  you  recollect,  Leslie,"  Jessie  chimed 
in, "  what  Mrs.  Loyd  told  us  about  her  encounter 
with  a  lynx,  last  year  ?  She  said  that  she  was 
in  the  house  oue  day,  when  she  heard  a  great 
outcry  among  her  chickens,  right  close  at  hand, 
in  the  yard.  She  ran  to  the  door,  and  t]<cre 
was  a  great  lynx,  chasing  the  chickens  around. 
The  minute  the  door  was  opened,  they  ran  to- 
ward it,  and  into  the  house.  The  lynx  was 
right  behind  them,  but  it  stopped  as  the  chick- 
ens crowded  around  her,  and  she  seized  the 
broom  and  struck  at  it.  Instead  of  running,  it 
stood  its  ground  and  showed  its  teeth,  bristling 
up  and  growling.  She  dropped  the  broom  and 
sprang  into  the  house,  slamming  the  door  shut 
just  as  the  lynx  hurled  itself  against  it.  She 
said  that  she  was  almost  scared  to  death.  She 
locked  the  door,  and  scrambled  up  into  the  loft 
— she  said  that  she  was  afraid  the  cat  would 
take  a  notion  to  break  in  at  oue  of  the  windows — 
and  the  creature  stayed  outside  and  killed 
chickens  as  long  as  he  pleased,  while  she  stayed 
up  there,  trembling,  until  her  husband  came 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  A  WILDCAT      157 

home.  She  said  that  the  next  time  a  bob-cat 
wanted  one  of  her  chickens  it  could  have  it,  for 
all  of  her." 

"I  would  hate  to  have  Guard  get  hurt,"  I 
said,  looking  affectionately  at  our  follower. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

JOE   DISAPPEARS 

THE  plowing  was  done — had  been  done  for 
some  days,  indeed — and  the  time  set  for  our 
offering  final  proof  was  close  at  hand.  But 
Jessie  and  I,  going  about  our  household  tasks 
with  sober  faces,  had  hardly  a  word  to  say  to 
each  other. 

We  had  looked  forward  to  this  coming  day 
with  such  eager  expectation,  but  now  that  it  was 
so  near,  we  shrank  with  dread  from  facing  it. 
A  trouble  so  great  as,  under  the  circumstances, 
to  deserve  to  be  ranked  as  a  calamity,  had  be- 
fallen us.  Joe  was  gone.  He  had  left  us  with- 
out a  sign,  at  the  time,  of  all  others  in  our  whole 
lives,  when  we  most  needed  him.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  day  that  the  plowing  was  done  he 
had  retired,  as  usual,  to  his  little  room  off  the 
kitchen,  and  when  we  awoke  in  the  morning  he 
was  gone.  That  was  all.  But  it  was  enough. 
158 


JOE   DISAPPEARS  159 

It  was  a  fact  that  seemed  to  darken  our  whole 
world.  It  was  not  alone  that  we  missed  his 
help;  we  had  believed  in  his  fidelity  as  one 
believes  in  the  fidelity  of  a  mother,  and  he  had 
left  us  without  a  word  of  explanation  or  regret. 

The  subject  was  so  painful  that,  by  tacit  con- 
sent, we  both  avoided  it.  It  would  have  been 
better,  I  think,  to  have  expressed  our  views 
freely,  for,  as  we  could  dwell  on  nothing  else, 
we  seldom  spoke  at  all,  and  that  added  to  the 
gloom  of  the  situation. 

Joe  had  been  gone  several  days,  and  we  had 
been  silently  struggling  in  the  Slough  of 
Despond,  when  I  awoke  one  morning  filled  with 
a  new  and  ardent  resolution,  which  I  proceeded 
to  carry  into  instant  execution. 

Jessie  was  always  the  first  one  up.  I  heard 
her  moving  about  in  the  kitchen,  and,  making 
a  hasty  toilet,  joined  her  there.  She  was 
grinding  coffee  in  the  mill  that  was  fastened 
securely  to  the  door-jamb.  It  was,  I  believe, 
the  noisiest  mill  in  existence;  its  resonant 
whi-r-rr  was  like  that  of  some  giant  grist-mill. 


160  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

Jessie  suspended  operations  as  I  drew  near  to 
remark : 

"  You're  up  early,  Leslie." 

"  Yes ;  I've  thought  of  something,  and — " 

"  It's  the  early  thought  that  is  caught,  same's 
the  early  worm,"  my  sister  remarked,  unfeel- 
ingly. Then  she  added  :  "  Excuse  me  a  minute, 
Leslie,  I  must  get  this  coffee  ground,  and  can't 
talk  against  the  mill." 

When  the  coffee  was  in  the  pot  on  the  stove, 
she  turned  to  me  again  : 

"  Now  what  have  you  thought  of  that  is  so 
wonderful  ?" 

"  It  isn't  wonderful,  Jessie.     It's  sensible." 

"  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"  Not  in  this  case.  First,  I  think  we  ought 
to  stop  grieving  over  Joe's  desertion." 

Jessie's  bright  face  clouded  instantly : 

"  It  is  cruel !"  she  protested. 

"  I  don't  feel  as  if  we  ought  to  say  that,  Jessie. 
Joe  lias  been  a  good,  true,  faithful  friend  to  us, 
and  he  loved  father ;  we,  ourselves,  loved  father 
no  more  than  Joe  did — " 


JOE    DISAPPEARS  161 

"  Why,  Leslie !" 

"  It  is  true,  Jessie.  I  feel  it,  someway,  and  I 
am  not  going  to  blame  Joe  any  more ;  not  even 
in  my  own  thoughts.  It  does  no  good,  and  it 
makes  us  very  unhappy.  Let's  try  to  be  cheer- 
ful again,  Jessie,  and  make  the  best  of  it." 

"We  must  make  the  best  of  it  whether  we 
are  cheerful  or  not." 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  one  of  the  first  things  that 
we  must  do,  if  we  are  to  depend  on  our  own 
efforts,  is  to  market  that  cantaloupe  crop." 

"  What,  you  and  I,  Leslie?"  Jessie  sat  down 
with  the  bread  knife  in  one  hand  and  a  loaf  of 
bread  in  the  other,  the  better  to  consider  this 
proposition. 

"  Just  you  and  I,  Jessie.  We  cannot  afford  to 
hire  an  agent,  supposing  that  one  was  to  be  had 
for  the  hiring,  which  is  by  no  means  likely. 
We've  been  eating  the  melons  for  days ;  they  are 
just  in  their  prime,  and  I  know  that  Joe  counted 
on  making  quite  a  little  sum  on  his  cantaloupe 
crop,  but  if  we  wait  now,  hoping  for  his  return,  the 
melons  will  be  ruined  ;  they  will  be  a  total  loss." 
11 


1G2  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  You  needn't  offer  any  more  arguments, 
Leslie.  I'm  glad  you  thought  of  it ;  it's  a  pity 
that  I  never  think  of  any  such  thing  myself 
until  the  procession  has  gone  hy.  Now  let  me 
see,  have  I  got  your  morning  thoughts  in  order? 
First,  Charity.  Toward  Joe.  Second,  Resigna- 
tion— all  capitals — Toward  Joe.  Third,  Labor. 
For  ourselves.  Is  that  right  ? 

"  Yes ;  if  you  like  to  put  it  that  way." 

"  You  shall  have  it  any  way  you  please,  Leslie 
dear,  and  I  will  help  you." 

"  After  breakfast,  then,  we  will  harness  up  the 
team  and  drive  the  wagon  into  the  melon  patch, 
then— we  will  fill  it." 

"  Yes,  and  what  then  ?" 

It  was  like  taking  a  plunge  into  cold  water. 
I  am  sure  that  I  was  not  intended  for  a  huckster, 
but  I  manag  to  respond  with  some  show  of 
courage : 

"Why,  then  I  will  drive  over  to  the  store  and 
sell  what  I  can,  and  then  I  will  go  about  among 
the  neighbors  with  the  rest." 

"  Will  you  ?"  Jessie  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 


JOE    DISAPPEARS  163 

"That  will  be  enterprising,  anyway.  I  should 
dreadfully  hate  to  drive  about  peddling  melons 
myself,  but  there's  such  a  difference  in  people 
about  things  of  that  sort." 

Jessie  is  so  exasperatingly  prosaic,  at  times, 
that  she  makes  me  feel  either  like  crying,  or  like 
shaking  her.  On  this  occasion  I  was  fortu- 
nately hindered  from  doing  either  by  Ralph,  who 
suddenly  appeared,  demanding  to  be  "  dwessed." 
After  breakfast  we  harnessed  the  horses — we 
could  either  of  us  do  that  as  well,  and  quicker 
than  Joe — then  we  drove  into  the  enclosure 
where  the  olive-tinted  little  spheres  lay  thick  on 
the  ground  and  proceeded  to  fill  the  wagon-box. 
The  patch  was  small,  but  the  melons  grew  in 
great  profusion,  and  it  did  not  take  long.  With- 
in a  couple  of  hours  I  was  traveling  along  the 
highway,  perched  upon  the  high  spring  seat  of 
the  wagon-box,  with  Guard  beside  me.  Guard 
was,  according  to  my  idea,  very  good  company,  and 
it  was,  moreover,  desirable  that  he  should  learn  to 
ride  in  a  wagon  and  to  conduct  himself  properly 
while  doing  so.  It  was  a  very  warm  morning  and 


164  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

as  the  sweet,  cloying  odor  of  my  wagon  load  of 
produce  assailed  my  nostrils,  I  could  not  but 
think  of  the  famous  couplet,  "  You  may  break, 
you  may  shatter  the  vase  if  you  will,  but  the  scent 
of  the  roses  will  hang  round  it  still !"  My  route 
through  the  settlement  might  be  traced,  I 
fancied,  by  the  fragrance  that  the  melons  ex- 
haled. 

My  first  stop  was  at  the  store  where  I  disposed 
of  a  satisfactory  quantity  of  melons,  but  after 
leaving  the  store  the  business  dragged  wearily, 
and  I  found  myself  obliged  to  take  promises  to 
pay  in  lieu  of  money  from  the  women  of  the 
household  when  the  masculine  head  chanced  to 
be  absent.  They  always  explained,  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  "  he  "  had  left  no  money 
with  them.  It  appeared  to  me,  as  I  patiently 
booked  one  promise  after  another,  that  "he" 
could  not  have  kept  hired  help  very  long  if 
their  wages  consisted  of  nothing  more  tangible — 
after  the  matter  of  food  and  lodging  was  elimi- 
nated—than those  that  fell  to  the  lot  of  "  his  " 
womenfolk.  I  had  observed,  with  some  annoy- 


JOE    DISAPPEARS  165 

ance,  when  I  first  started  out,  that  one  of  the 
wagon  wheels  had  a  tendency  to  make  plaintive 
little  protests,  as  if  it  objected  to  being  put  to 
any  use.  I  could  by  no  means  fathom  the 
reason  for  it,  but  by  mid-afternoon  the  protest 
had  grown  into  a  piercing  shriek.  A  shriek 
that  even  Guard  shrank  from  with  an  indig- 
nant growl. 

Less  than  one-fourth  of  my  load  yet  remained 
unsold.  I  was  most  anxious  to  clear  it  all  out, 
but  that  ear-piercing  sound  was  becoming  mad- 
dening. "  The  wagon  must  be  conjured,"  I 
thought,  recalling  some  of  Joe's  fancies.  Coming 
to  a  place  at  last,  where  two  roads  met,  I  halted 
the  team  and  sat  considering  the  question  of  a 
return  home  or  a  trip  to  Crusoe,  which  place  I 
had  not  yet  visited,  when  the  sight  of  a  horse- 
man far  down  the  left-hand  road  decided  me  to 
go  in  that  direction.  The  horseman  was  well 
mounted  and  going  at  a  good  pace.  "  I  don't 
care  !"  I  told  myself,  recklessly,  "  I'm  going  to 
overtake  him  and  make  him  take  some  of  these 
melons  if  I  have  to  pay  him  for  doing  it." 


106  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

But  there  was  no  occasion  for  my  hurrying 
the  horses.  When  the  man  on  ahead  caught 
the  sound  of  my  rapidly-advancing  shriek  he 
promptly  drew  up  beside  the  roadway  and 
awaited  my  approach,  and  then  I  saw  that  the 
rider  was  Mr.  Rutledge.  He  recognized  me  at 
the  same  moment  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  Miss  Leslie,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  meekly,  but  I  felt  my  face 
grow  red,  and  was  conscious,  in  spite  of  my  good 
resolutions,  of  a  sudden  resentment  against  Joe. 
Why  had  he  left  me  to  do  such  work  as  this  ? 

Mr.  Eutledge,  drawing  close  to  the  Avagon, 
ran  an  inquiring  eye  over  my  merchandise. 

"  Been  buying  melons?"  he  asked,  adding:  "  I 
didn't  know  that  there  was  anything  of  the  kind 
for  sale  in  the  valley." 

The  observation  did  not  seem  to  require  an 
answer,  and  I  was  silent  while  he  reached  into 
the  box  and  selected  one  of  the  smaller  melons 
and  held  it  up  laughingly,  as  if  defying  me  to 
retake  it. 

"  Findings  is  keepings !"  he  said,  gayly. 


HE   DREW   UP   BESIDE   THE   ROADWAY 
(Page  166) 


JOE    DISAPPEARS  167 

"  Also,  pilferings,"  I  returned,  triumphantly. 
After  all,  I  should  not  be  compelled  either  to 
urge  a  sale  or  to  offer  a  bribe. 

"  Call  it  pilfering  if  you  have  the  face  to,  but 
in  return  for  this  bit  of  refreshment  I  am  going 
to  give  you  some  advice." 

"  Well  ?" 

"  The  next  time  that  you  take  your  colored 
attache's  place  as  teamster,  make  sure  that  he 
has  greased  your  wagon  wheels.  You  may  not 
have  observed  it,  but  their  protests  against 
moving  are  simply  diabolical." 

"Oh,  is  that  what  causes  that  noise?"  I 
asked,  leaning  down  from  the  seat  the  better  to 
peer  at  the  wheels  in  question. 

"  Certainly  ;  Joe  should  not  have  allowed  you 
to  go  out  with  them  in  such  shape." 

The  laughter  had  died  out  of  my  heart  and 
my  voice,  but  a  stubborn,  foolish  pride  held  my 
tongue.  I  could  not  tell  the  mining  superin- 
tendent, who  would  have  been  one  of  the  best  of 
customers,  that  the  melons  were  for  sale,  or  that 
Joe  had  left  us.  "  If  I  tell  him  that  Joe  is  gone," 


168  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

ran  ray  foolish  thought,  "  he  will  understand 
that  I  am  peddling  melons."  Gathering  up  the 
lines,  I  started  the  horses  quickly,  lest  he 
should  ask  where  I  got  my  load.  Mr.  Rutledge 
drew  his  horse  aside,  waiting  for  me  to  pass. 

"  Be  sure  to  tell  Joe  about  the  wheels,  when 
you  see  him !"  he  called  after  me,  as  the  com- 
plaining shriek  again  rent  the  air. 

"  Yes,"  I  returned,  "  I  will ;"  and  added  to 
myself:  "When  I  see  him." 

In  my  anxiety  to  escape  questioning  I  had 
forgotten  that  a  person  who  is  riding  in  a  wagon 
whose  wheels  need  oiling  cannot  shake  off  a 
well-mounted  horseman  so  easily.  Underneath 
the  weird  outcry  of  the  wheels  the  steady 
pit-a-pat,  pit-a-pat  of  the  black  horse's  hoofs 
came  to  my  ears,  and  I  glanced  back  to  see 
Mr.  Rutledge  close  to  the  hind  wheel.  Unless 
he  stopped  entirely  he  must  of  necessity  be 
close  at  hand.  The  road  that  Mr.  Rutledge 
must  take  in  order  to  reach  the  mining  camp 
branched  off  from  the  one  that  we  were  fol- 
lowing, at  a  little  distance,  and  I  under- 


JOE   DISAPPEARS  169 

stood  very  well  that,  considering  the  distance, 
he  did  not  think  it  civil  to  gallop  on  ahead 
of  me.  But  suppose  he  should  yet  ask  me 
where  the  melons  came  from— just  suppose  it. 
Should  I  tell  a  lie,  or  should  I  tell  him  that  I 
was  not  even  acting  as  teamster  to  oblige  another? 
I  took  up  the  whip — then  I  dropped  it  back  into 
its  socket.  I  had  always  known  myself  for,  in 
my  quiet  way,  rather  a  proud  girl,  but — it — 
but — it  was  not  this  kind  of  pride,  and  I  had 
never  before  felt  myself  a  coward.  Because 
Mr.  Rutledge  was  a  gentleman,  was  it  any  worse 
that  he  should  know — 

I  drew  in  the  reins  sharply,  and  the  team 
came  to  a  standstill.  The  sudden  cessation  of 
that  fearful  noise  called  to  mind  a  line  or  two 
that  Jessie  is  fond  of  quoting:  "And  silence 
like  a  poultice  comes,  to  heal  the  blows  of  sound." 

Mr.  Rutledge  again  halted  his  horse,  and 
turned  on  me  an  inquiring  look.  My  throat 
was  dry  and  husky,  and  my  voice  sounded 
strange  in  my  own  ears  as  I  said,  in  answer  to 
the  look; 


170  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Rutledge,  that  we 
raised  these  melons  ourselves,  and  we  are  trying 
to  sell  them." 

"Are  you?" 

His  tone  was  very  gentle.  He  regarded  me 
and  my  dusty,  wayworn  outfit  silently  for  a 
space,  then  he  said,  this  time  with  no  laughter 
in  his  voice : 

"  I  take  off  my  hat  to  you,  Miss  Leslie  " — he 
suited  the  action  to  the  word — "  and  I  thank  you 
for  teaching  me  anew  the  truth  of  the  old 
saying :  '  True  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 
and  simple  worth  than  Norman  blood.'  " 

He  replaced  his  hat  with  a  sweeping  bow, 
touched  the  black  horse  lightly  with  a  spurred 
heel,  and  was  gone.  The  tears  were  in  my  eyes 
as  I  watched  the  little  swirl  of  dust  raised  by  his 
horse's  hoofs  settle  back  to  place.  I  had  not 
deserved  praise,  but  it  was  something  to  feel  that 
others  understood  how  hard  and  distasteful  was 
this  bitter  task,  and  I  was  glad  to  remember  that 
he  had  not  added  to  my  humiliation  by  offering 
to  buy  my  melons.  I  meant  to  sell  them  all 


JOE    DISAPPEARS  171 

before  returning  home  now,  and  I  did,  but  it  was 
a  long  day's  work,  and  when  I  reached  home  I 
had  only  five  dollars  to  show  for  it.  "  He  "  had 
been  chiefly  absent  from  home,  and  I  had 
booked  many  promises. 

Jessie  and  Ralph  met  me  at  the  gate  as  I 
drove  up.  Jessie  was  interested  and  anxious. 

"  Why,  you  have  sold  all  the  melons  !"  Jessie 
exclaimed,  glancing  into  the  wagon-box,  and 
narrowly  escaping  being  knocked  over  by 
Guard,  as  he  sprang  down  from  the  seat.  "  You 
have  had  good  luck,  Leslie." 

"  Good  luck  doesn't  mean  ready  money  in  this 
case,  Jessie,  and  that  is  what  we  need.  There's 
just  about  one  more  load  of  melons,  and  to- 
morrow we'll  take  them  out  to  the  storage 
camp." 

"That  may  be  a  good  plan,"  Jessie  admitted 
reflectively,  "  but  it's  a  long  drive." 

"  Yes,  we  must  get  an  early  start,  and  we 
must  not  forget  to  oil  the  wagon  wheels,"  I  said, 
but  I  did  not  mention  my  meeting  with  Mr. 
Rutledge. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AT   THE   STORAGE    RESERVOIR 

BY  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  we  were  on 
our  way  to  the  water-storage  carnp,  twenty  miles 
away  across  the  plains. 

The  wagon-box  was  piled  high  with  the  last 
of  our  cantaloupe  crop.  Jessie  and  I  had  risen 
at  daylight  to  pull  them.  We  had  been  careful 
to  leave  a  vacant  space  in  the  front  of  the 
wagon,  and  this,  fitted  up  with  his  favorite  little 
chair  and  plenty  of  blankets,  made  a  snug 
harbor  for  Ralph.  The  little  fellow  was  wild 
with  excitement  and  pleasure  at  the  prospect 
before  him.  There  was  room,  besides,  in  the 
harbor  for  a  well-filled  lunch  basket,  a  jug  of 
water,  and,  if  he  became  tired  of  walking,  for 
Guard.  The  dog  trotted  on  beside  the  wagon, 
alert  and  vigilant,  until  we  were  well  outside  of 
the  valley,  when,  intoxicated,  perhaps,  by  the 
sight  of  such  boundless  miles  over  which  to 
172 


AT  THE  STOKAGE  RESERVOIR      173 

chase  them,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  pursuit  of 
prairie  dogs.  An  entirely  futile  pursuit  in  all 
cases,  but  Guard  seemed  unable  to  understand 
the  hopelessness  of  it  until  some  miles  had  been 
covered  and  he  was  panting  with  fatigue.  The 
wary  little  creatures  always  kept  within  easy 
reach  of  their  burrows,  a  fact  which  Guard  did 
not  comprehend  until  he  had  scurried  wildly 
through  a  half-dozen  prairie  dog  towns  in  suc- 
cession. But  when  the  conviction  did  force 
itself  upon  him  their  most  insistent  and  insolent 
barking  was  powerless  to  arrest  his  further  at- 
tention. He  had  learned  his  lesson. 

I  had  put  the  rifle  and  a  well-filled  cartridge- 
belt  into  the  wagon  thinking  that  I  might  get  a 
shot  at  a  jack-rabbit  or  cotton-tail,  but  Guard's 
experience  impressed  me  as  likely  to  be  mine 
also  should  I  attempt  to  kill  such  small  game 
with  a  rifle,  and  I  left  the  gun  untouched. 

The  plains  were  gray  with  dust  and  shimmer- 
ing in  the  heat.  Clouds  of  the  pungent  alkali 
dust  were  stirred  up  by  the  horses'  feet  and  by 
the  wagon  wheels — we  had  oiled  the  wheels 


174  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

after  au  extravagant  fashion,  I'm  afraid,  for  I 
do  not  remember  that  Joe  ever  used  up  an  entire 
jar  of  lard,  as  we  did,  for  that  purpose — and  our 
throats  were  parched,  our  faces  blistered,  and  our 
eyes  smarting  before  half  the  distance  to  the  camp 
was  passed  over.  The  wind,  what  little  there  was 
of  it,  seemed  but  to  add  waves  of  heat  to  the 
torturing  waves  of  alkali  dust.  Ralph,  after 
whimpering  a  little  with  the  general  discomfort, 
curled  down  in  his  nest  and  dropped  off  to  sleep, 
but  there  was  no  such  refuge  for  Jessie  and 
me. 

"  It's  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  poor  !"  Jessie  ex- 
claimed, at  last.  There  was  a  desolate  intona- 
tion in  her  voice,  and  my  own  spirits  drooped. 
The  horses  dropped  into  a  slow  walk. 

"We  shall  have  one  advantage  over  Mr. 
Wilson,  whatever  happens,"  Jessie  presently 
continued. 

"How  is  that?"  I  inquired.  It  did  not  look, 
at  the  moment,  as  if  we  were  ever  destined  to 
have  the  advantage  of  any  one. 

"  We  shall  not  find  the  men  at  dinner  ;  they 


AT   THE   STOEAGE   RESERVOIR  175 

will  have  had  their  dinners  and  gone  to  work 
again." 

"  We  may  find  them  at  supper,"  I  said,  giving 
Frank  an  impatient  slap  with  the  lines.  The 
blow  was  a  light  one,  but  it  took  him  by  sur- 
prise, and,  as  was  his  wont,  he  stopped  and 
looked  back  inquiringly,  seemingly  anxious  to 
know  what  was  meant  by  such  a  proceeding. 
Jessie  snatched  up  the  whip,  and  I  laughed  as  I 
invited  Frank  to  go  on.  "  Don't  strike  him, 
please,  Jessie!  You  don't  understand  Frank, 
and  he  doesn't  understand  the  meaning  of  a 
blow;  he  thinks,  when  he  is  doing  his  work 
faithfully  and  gets  struck,  that  it  must  have  been 
an  accident,  and  he  stops  to  investigate." 

"  Dear  me !  How  much  you  know — or  think 
you  do — about  horses,"  Jessie  returned  wearily. 
"  You're  worse  than  old  Joe."  She  dropped  the 
whip  back  into  its  socket  with  a  petulant 
gesture.  "  I'm  sorry  we  started,  Leslie.  Here 
we've  been  on  the  road  six  or  eight  hours — " 

"  A  little  over  three  hours,  Jessie." 

"  Well,  we're  not  in  sight  of  the  promised 


176  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

laud  yet,  and  I'm  nearly  roasted ;  I  shall  just 
melt  if  we  keep  on  this  way  much  longer." 

"  Me  is  melted  ;  me  is  all  water  !"  cried  Ralph, 
waking  up  suddenly,  and  immediately  giving 
way  to  forlorn  tears.  The  tears  plowed  tiny 
furrows  through  the  dust  that  clung  to  his  moist 
cheeks,  and  had  settled  in  grayish  circles  un- 
derneath his  eyes.  Jessie  looked  down  at  the 
piteous  little  figure  and  her  own  ill-temper  van- 
ished. 

"  Come  up  here  and  look  round,  you  poor  hot 
little  mite !"  she  exclaimed,  extending  one  hand 
and  a  foot  as  a  sort  of  impromptu  step-ladder. 
Ralph  clambered  up  with  some  difficulty  and 
looked  around  as  directed,  but  the  prospect  did 
not  have  an  enlivening  effect  on  him. 

"  Where  is  we  ?"  he  demanded,  turning  his 
large,  dust-encircled  eyes  on  each  of  us  in  turn. 

"  On  the  plains,"  I  responded  briefly.  I  was 
driving ;  the  load  was  heavy,  and  the  horses, 
worn  with  fatigue  and  the  heat,  lagged  more  and 
more ;  therefore  my  anxiety  grew,  and  I  had  no 
time  to  waste  on  trivialities. 


AT   THE   STORAGE    RESERVOIR  177 

"  One  need  not  ask  why  it  never  rains  here, 
though,"  I  suddenly  observed,  "  for  behold ! 
Jessie,  there  is  the  thing  that  makes  rain  un- 
necessary." 

A  glimmer  of  white  had  been,  for  some  min- 
utes, slowly  growing  on  the  horizon.  I  had 
thought  at  first,  that  it  must  be  a  mirage,  but  it 
kept  its  place  so  steadily,  without  that  swift, 
undulating,  gliding  motion  that  these  familiar 
plains  spectacles  always  present  that  I  presently 
became  convinced  that  the  white  glimmer  was  a 
lake,  and  so  that  we  were  within  a  few  miles  of 
our  objective  point. 

"  Sure  enough,  that's  the  lake  1"  Jessie  ex- 
claimed, after  a  long  look.  "  Well,  that's  some 
comfort,"  was  her  conclusion.  Ralph  stood  up 
on  the  seat  between  us  and  looked,  too : 

"  Me  wants  a  dwink !"  he  cried,  after  making 
quite  sure  that  the  white  shimmer  in  the  dis- 
tance was  that  of  water. " 

Jessie  slid  off  the  seat  and  got  hold  of  the 
water-jug  and  tincup,  then  she  tried  to  fill  the 
cup,  but  the  result  was  disastrous. 

12 


178  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  You'll  have  to  stop  the  horses,  Leslie,  I  shall 
spill  every  drop  of  water  at  this  rate." 

As  the  wagon  came  to  a  stand-still,  and  while 
Ralph  was  drinking,  Guard  suddenly  appeared 
from  his  place  underneath  the  wagon — he  had 
thus  far  declined  all  invitations  to  ride — and 
putting  his  fore  feet  on  the  front  hub,  looked 
up,  whining  beseechingly : 

"Dard  wants  some  water,  too,"  Ralph 
said. 

"  He's  got  to  have  it,  then,"  I  declared,  and 
climbed  quickly  out  of  the  wagon. 

"I  hope  you  don't  intend  to  let  him  drink 
out  of  the  cup !"  Jessie  exclaimed. 

"No;  hand  ine  the  jug,  and  I'll  pour  the 
water  into  his  mouth." 

"  Oh,  he  can't  drink  in  that  way  !" 

"  Just  hand  me  the  jug  and  see."  She  com- 
plied, and  Guard  justified  my  faith  in  his  intel- 
ligence by  gulping  down  the  water  that  I  poured 
into  his  open  mouth,  very  carefully,  scarcely 
spilling  a  drop. 

In  the  end  we  decided  to  get  out  and  cut  our 


AT    THE    STORAGE    RESERVOIR  179 

lunch  ill  the  shade  of  the  wagon,  especially  as 
Kalph  was  plaintively  declaring : 

"  Me  so  hundry  !" 

"  We'll  give  the  horses  a  chance  to  eat  while 
we're  selling  the  melons,"  I  remarked,  as  much 
for  Frank's  benefit  as  anything  else,  for  he  had 
turned  his  head,  and  was  watching  us  with  re- 
proachful interest,  as  we  sat  at  our  meal.  He 
must  have  thought  us  very  selfish. 

Lunch  over,  we  climbed  back  into  the  wagon 
again,  after  re-packing  the  basket.  Guard  also 
signified  his  willingness  to  ride,  now,  and  we 
went  on,  much  refreshed  by  the  brief  stop  and 
the  needed  lunch  which  had  hardly  lost  its 
consolatory  effect  when,  between  one  and  two 
o'clock,  we  drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  cook's 
tent,  on  the  eastern  bank  of  the  great  water- 
storage  reservoir.  The  cook  was  busy,  but  sig- 
nified, after  a  hasty  inspection,  that  our  load 
was  all  right. 

"  Better  take  it  in,"  he  added,  nodding  toward 
one  of  the  three  men  who  were  lounging  about 
in  the  vicinity.  I  suppose  that  this  friendly 


180  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

young  gentleman  must  have  been  the  commis- 
sary clerk,  or  something  of  that  sort.  He  called 
a  man  to  take  care  of  our  horses,  and  chatted 
with  us  pleasantly,  while  another  man  unloaded 
the  melons.  He  urged  us  to  come  into  the 
dining-tent  and  let  the  cook  "  knock  us  up  a 
dinner,"  but  this  we  declined  on  the  plea  that 
we  had  already  dined,  and  were  extremely 
anxious  to  take  the  homeward  road  as  soon  as 
possible. 

"  It's  so  late,  you  see,"  Jessie  observed,  con- 
sulting father's  big  silver  watch,  which  she 
carried. 

"  We  have  already  been  here  some  time ;  how 
late  is  it,  Jessie  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  it's  nearly  four !"  Jessie  made  the 
statement  in  a  tone  of  dismay,  adding :  "  How 
late  it  will  be  before  we  get  home !" 

"  I  can  drive  home  a  great  deal  faster  than 
we  came,"  I  said. 

"How  far  have  you  got  to  go!"  inquired 
the  clerk,  who  had  told  us  that  his  name  was 
Phillips. 


AT    THE   STORAGE    RESERVOIR  181 

"  Twenty  miles." 

"  That's  a  good  bit ;  but  it's  a  moonlight 
night." 

"  Dear  me  !  We  don't  care  if  it  is,"  Jessie 
returned,  rather  crossly  ;  "we  want  to  get  home." 

"  You'll  get  home  all  right,"  Mr.  Phillips  as- 
sured her,  easily.  "  I'll  have  Tom  put  your 
horses  in  at  once  and  here's  the  money  for  your 
load."  He  counted  out  a  fascinating  little  roll 
of  bills,  adding,  as  he  tendered  the  amount  to 
Jessie,  who  promptly  pocketed  it,  "  I  hope  you'll 
excuse  my  saying  that  you  appear  to  be  a  plucky 
pair  of  girls.  If  you've  anything  more  to 
market—"  Jessie  shook  her  head : 

"  There  was  a  reason ;  we  were  obliged  to  sell 
the  melons,"  she  ended,  lamely.  The  horses, 
fed,  watered,  and  evidently  greatly  refreshed, 
were,  by  this  time,  on  the  wagon.  Mr.  Phillips 
helped  us  in,  and,  while  doing  so,  his  glance  fell 
on  the  rifle  lying  under  the  seat.  He  took  up 
the  gun  and  ran  his  eye  over  it  approvingly. 

"  Either  of  you  shoot  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  My  sister  shoots  pretty  well,"  Jessie  told 


182  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

him,  adding:  "We  really  must  be  starting,  and 
we  are  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you  for  your 
kindness." 

"  And  particularly  for  buying  the  melons,"  I 
could  not  forbear  saying. 

Mr.  Phillips  laughed  :  "  The  boys  will  say 
that  it  was  you  who  conferred  the  obligation, 
when  it  comes  to  sampling  those  melons,"  he 
said.  I  had  gathered  up  the  lines  when  he 
added,  suddenly  :  "  Wait !"  I  waited,  while  he 
stepped  back  into  the  tent.  He  re-appeared 
directly,  carrying  a  half  dozen  big  mallards 
and  a  couple  of  jack-rabbits :  "  You'll  let  me 
make  you  a  present  of  these,  won't  you?"  he 
asked,  smiling,  persuasively,  as  he  tossed  them 
into  the  wagon-box.  "  I  was  out  hunting  this 
morning,  and  I  had  good  luck,  as  I  always  do." 
We  thanked  him  heartily  for  his  gift  and  drove 
off  feeling  not  only  a  good  deal  richer,  but  much 
happier  than  when  we  had  started  out. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CHASED    BY    WOLVES 

THE  horses  trotted  along  briskly  for  a  few 
miles,  but  they  were  tired  from  two  days  of  hard 
work,  and,  in  spite  of  their  eagerness  to  reach 
home,  their  pace  slackened.  I  did  not  urge 
them.  It  would  be,  as  Mr.  Phillips  had  said,  a 
moonlight  night ;  the  rays  of  the  rising  moon 
were  already  silvering  the  deepening  dusk. 
Ralph  was  again  asleep  in  his  snug  harbor,  with 
Guard  lying  quietly  beside  him. 

"  The  cows  will  be  waiting  at  the  corral  bars 
when  we  get  home,"  Jessie  remarked  once,  "  but 
it  is  going  to  be  so  light  that  we  can  do  the 
chores  nearly  as  well  at  midnight  as  we  could  at 
mid-day,  so  there  is  really  no  need  of  hurrying. 
We've  had  good  luck  to-day,  haven't  we, 
Leslie  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  we  have,"  but  I  spoke 
absently.  I  was  listening  to  again  catch  a 

183 


184  *  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

sound  that  had  just  reached  my  ears ;  faint,  far 
off,  but  welcome;  it  was  one  that  we  seldom 
heard  in  that  mountain-guarded  valley  where 
our  days  were  passed. 

"  Did  you  hear  that,  Jessie  ?" 

"What?" 

"  The  whistle  of  a  locomotive  engine ;  there  it 
is  again  !  How  far  off  it  seems  !" 

"  Sound  travels  a  long  way  over  these  plains ; 
there's  nothing  to  intercept  it — but  I  didn't 
hear  it," 

"  Listen.  It  will  sound  again,  perhaps,  when 
the  train  reaches  another  crossing.  It  must  be 
way  down  on  the  Huerfano.  There,  didn't  you 
hear  that?" 

"Yes;  do  keep  still,  Guard." 

Guard,  aroused  from  his  nap,  was  sitting  up 
and  looking  around  with  an  occasional  low 
growl. 

"  Seems  to  me  that  they  must  have  railway 
crossings  pretty  thick  down  on  the  Huerfano," 
Jessie  remarked,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"That  makes  three  whistles — if  they  are 


CHASED    BY    WOLVES  185 

whistles — that  we've  heard  within  as  many 
minutes." 

"That's  true,  Jessie — I  hadn't  thought  of 
that.  It  may  not  be  an  engine.  It  sounds 
louder,  instead  of  diminishing  as  it  would  if — 
keep  still,  Guard !  What  in  the  world  is  the 
matter  with  you !" 

For  answer,  Guard,  with  every  hair  on  his 
back  erect  and  standing  up  like  the  quills  of  a 
porcupine,  got  up,  and  wriggled  himself  under 
the  seat  on  which  we  were  sitting,  making  his 
way  to  the  end  of  the  wagon-box,  where  he 
stood  with  legs  braced  to  keep  himself  steady, 
his  chin  resting  on  the  edge  of  the  tail-board, 
and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  darkening  roadway 
over  which  we  had  just  passed.  Every  now  and 
then  he  gave  a  low,  sullen  growl,  and,  even  from 
where  we  sat,  and  in  the  increasing  gloom  we 
could  see  that  his  white  fangs  were  bared. 

"  How  strangely  Guard  acts !"  exclaimed 
Jessie,  with  a  sudden  catch  in  her  voice,  and  a 
dawning  fear  of — she  knew  not  what — inter  eyes. 
At  that  instant  the  sound  that  I  had  taken  for  the 


186  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

far-off,  dying  whistle  of  a  locomotive,  came  again 
to  my  ears  ;  nearer,  more  distinct,  in  increasing 
volume — a  weird,  melancholy  call — a  pursuing 
cry.  The  lines  were  in  my  hands,  and  at  that 
instant  the  horses  suddenly  sprang  forward, 
faster,  faster,  until  their  pace  became  a  tearing 
run,  and  then  some  words  of  my  own,  spoken 
weeks  before,  flashed  into  my  mind,  bringing 
with  them  a  mental  illumination. 

"  There  are  wolves !"  I  had  said.  I  was  con- 
scious of  an  effort  to  steady  my  voice,  to  keep  it 
from  shaking,  as  I  thrust  the  lines  into  Jessie's 
hands.  "  Try  to  keep  the  horses  in  the  road, 
Jessie ;  do  not  check  them.  I  am  going  back 
there  by  Guard." 

"  What  for  ?"  Jessie's  tones  were  sharp  with 
apprehension,  and  again,  as  if  in  explanation, 
came  that  pursuing  chorus.  I  sprang  over  the 
back  of  the  seat,  and  knelt  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon  box,  securing  the  rifle  and  cartridge- 
belt.  Jessie,  holding  the  lines  firmly  in  either 
hand,  shifted  her  position  to  look  down  on 
me.  Her  face  gleamed  white  in  the  dusk 


CHASED    BY    WOLVES  187 

as  she  breathed,  rather  than  spoke:  "Wolves, 
Leslie?" 

"  Yes,"  I  had  the  gun  now  and  staggered  to 
my  feet.  "  Watch  the  horses,  Jessie."  Jessie 
nodded. 

Ralph,  roused  by  the  rapid  motion,  had 
awakened.  He  struggled  to  a  sitting  posture. 
"  AVhat  for.  is  us  doin'  so  fas'  ?"  he  inquired,  with 
interest. 

Jessie  made  no  reply,  but  she  put  one 
foot  on  his  short  skirt,  holding  him  in  place. 
Some  intuition  told  him  what  was  taking  place, 
perhaps,  what  might  take  place.  Clasping  both 
chubby  hands  around  Jessie's  foot  to  steady  him- 
self, he  sat  in  silence,  making  no  complaint. 
The  brave  spirit  within  his  baby  body  had  risen 
to  meet  the  crisis  as  gallantly  as  could  that  of 
any  Gordon  over  whose  head  a  score  of  years 
had  passed. 

Reaching  the  end  of  the  wagon,  I  crouched 
down  beside  Guard,  with  rifle  poised  and  finger 
on  the  trigger,  waiting  for  the  pursuing  outcry 
to  resolve  itself  into  tangible  shape.  I  had  not 


188  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

long  to  wait.  Dusky  shadows  came  stealing  out 
from  either  side  of  the  roadway.  Shadows  that, 
as  I  strained  my  eyes  upon  them,  seemed  to 
grow  and  multiply,  until,  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell  it,  we  were  close  beset  by  a  pack  of 
wolves  in  full  cry.  The  terrified  horses  were 
bounding  along  and  the  wagon  was  bouncing 
after  them,  at  a  rate  that  threatened  moment- 
arily to  either  shatter  the  wagon  or  set  the 
horses  free  from  it,  but  Jessie  still  kept  them  in 
the  road.  A  moment  more  and  the  wolves  were 
upon  us,  and  had  ceased  howling ;  their  quarry 
was  at  hand.  I  could  see  their  eyes  flam- 
ing in  the  darkness,  and  with  the  rifle 
muzzle  directed  toward  a  couple  of  those 
flaming  points,  I  fired.  There  was  a  terrific 
clamor  again  as  the  report  of  the  gun  died 
away,  and  a  score  or  more  of  our  pursuers  halted, 
sniffing  at  a  fallen  comrade.  But  one  gaunt 
long-limbed  creature  disdained  to  stop  for  such 
a  matter.  He  kept  after  the  wagon.  Guard 
was  young  and,  moreover,  this  was  his  first  ex- 
perience with  wolves.  He  had  stopped  growl- 


CHASED    BY    WOLVES  189 

ing,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to  dart  fire,  and  as  the 
wolf  that  had  outstripped  its  mates  sprang  up, 
with  gnashing  teeth,  hurling  himself  at  the  tail- 
board in  a  determined  effort  to  spring  into  the 
wagon,  Guard  attempted  to  spring  out  and  grap- 
ple with  him.  I  was  leaning  against  the  dog, 
ready  to  meet  the  wolfs  closer  approach  with  a 
bullet,  and,  in  consequence,  I  felt  the  impetus 
of  his  leap  before  he  could  accomplish  it.  The 
gun  dropped  from  my  hand  with  a  crash  as  I 
threw  both  arms  around  Guard,  intent  on  hold- 
ing him  in  the  wagon.  I  was  so  far  successful 
that  his  leap  was  checked ;  he  fell  across  the 
tailboard,  his  head  and  forelegs  outside.  My 
grip  about  his  body  tightened  as  I  felt  him  slip- 
ping. I  pulled  back  mightily,  and  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  tumbling  backward  with  him  into 
the  wagon-box,  but  not  before  he  had  briefly 
sampled  the  wolf.  The  creature's  savage  head 
and  cruel  eyes  appeared  above  the  tailboard, 
even  as  I  dragged  at  Guard,  who,  not  to  be  de- 
terred by  my  interference,  made  a  vicious  lunge 
at  the  enemy,  and  fell  back  with  me,  his  mouth 


190  TWO    WYOMIXG   GIRLS 

and  throat  so  full  of  wolf-hair  and  hide  that  he 
was  nearly  strangled.  But  that  particular  wolf 
had  drawn  off.  I  regained  my  feet  and  admon- 
ished Guard :  "  Stay  there,  sir !  Stay  right 
there  !"  I  gasped,  and  again  secured  the  gun. 
The  wolves,  on  each  side  of  us  now,  were  run- 
ning close  to  the  front  wheels  and  to  the  gallop- 
ing horses,  and  one  was  again  trying  to  leap 
into  the  box  from  the  rear.  The  rifle  spoke, 
and  he  fell  motionless  on  the  road,  at  the  same 
instant  I  heard  Ralph  saying,  imperatively : 
"  Do  away  !  Do  away  I  tells  'oo  !"  I  looked 
around.  Ralph  was  on  his  knees — no  one 
could  have  kept  footing  in  that  wagon-box 
just  then — a  pair  of  wolves  were  leaping 
up  wildly  beside  the  near  wheel,  making 
futile  springs  and  snaps  at  him,  and  just  then 
he  lifted  something,  some  dark  object  from 
the  bottom  of  the  wagon-box,  and  hurled 
it  at  them  with  all  the  power  of  his  baby 
hands.  Whatever  the  object  was,  its  effect  on 
the  wolves  was  instantaneous.  The  pack  had 
not  stopped  to  look  at  the  wolf  brought  down  by 


CHASED    BY    WOLVES  191 

my  second  shot,  but  they  all  stopped,  snarling 
and  fighting  over  Ralph's  missile.  A  few  took 
on  after  us,  and  then  Ralph  threw  another  ; 
they  stopped  again  at  that,  and  then  I  saw  that 
the  child  was  throwing  out  the  game  that 
Phillips  had  given  us.  With  another  command 
to  Guard  to  remain  where  he  was,  I  crept  back 
to  the  pile  of  game  yet  remaining,  and  tossed 
out  what  was  left.  Then  I  crept  on  to  Jessie. 

"  Can  you  slow  the  horses  down  ?"  I  shouted 
in  her  ear.  "  The  wolves  will  not  follow  us 
again  ;  they  have  got  what  they  were  after." 

The  horses  knew  me,  and  by  dint  of  much 
pulling  and  many  soothing  words  I  had  them 
partially  quieted,  but  it  took  so  long  to  gain 
even  that  much  control  over  them  that  the 
wolves  were  far  out  of  sight  and  sound  behind 
us  when  I  at  length  ventured  to  look  back.  The 
horses  were  walking  at  last,  but  it  was  a  walk 
so  full  of  frightened  starts  and  nervous  glances 
that  it  threatened  at  any  moment  to  break  into  a 
run.  By  the  moonlight  Jessie  and  I  looked  into 
each  others'  white  faces,  and,  with  Ralph  cud- 


192  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

died  between  us,  clung  together  for  a  breathless 
instant  of  thanksgiving.  Then — "  'Ose  dogs 
was  hundry,"  Ralph  observed,  philosophically, 
adding,  as  an  afterthought :  "  Me  hundry,  too  ; 
Is  we  mos'  'ome,  'Essie  ?" 

"  We'll  be  there  soon,"  I  answered,  tremu- 
lously. We  saw  or  heard  nothing  more  of  the 
wolves,  which  were  of  that  cowardly  species — a 
compromise  between  the  skulking  coyote  and  the 
savage  gray  wolf,  known  as  "Loafers."  A 
loafer  very  seldom  attacks  man,  but  he  will, 
if  numerous  enough,  run  down  and  destroy 
cattle — sometimes  horses.  In  this  instance  it 
was  undoubtedly  the  scent  of  the  game  in  the 
wagon  that  attracted  them.  Once  attracted  and 
bent  on  capture,  they  are  as  fiercely  determined 
as  their  gray  cousins,  and  but  for  the  fortunate 
accident  of  Ralph's  using  a  duck  fora  projectile 
they  would  have  kept  up  the  chase  until  the 
horses  were  exhausted,  and  they  were  able  to 
help  themselves. 

It  was  after  nine  when  we  reached  home,  and 
never  had  home  seemed  a  dearer  or  safer  place. 


CHASED    BY   WOLVES  193 

The  chores  all  done,  Ralph  asleep  in  his  little 
crib,  and  Guard  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just 
on  the  kitchen  doorstep,  Jessie  and  I  sat  down 
by  the  table  to  eat  a  belated  supper,  and  count 
our  hard-won  gains.  The  melon  crop  was  all 
sold,  and  it  had  netted  us  forty  dollars. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A   SLEEPLESS   NIGHT 

IT  was  close  upon  the  beginning  of  another 
day  before  Jessie  and  I  got  to  bed,  but,  late  as 
it  was,  I  could  not  sleep. 

Our  pressing  financial  problem  was  so  con- 
stantly in  my  thoughts  that  now,  in  my  weari- 
ness, I  found  myself  unable  to  dismiss  it.  We 
had  collected  some  money,  but  not  enough — not 
enough  !  I  turned  and  tossed  restlessly.  Now 
that  the  time  for  proving  up  was  so  close  at  hand 
an  increasing  terror  of  failure  grew  upon  me.  It 
did  not  seem  to  me  that  I  should  be  able  to  en- 
dure it  if  we  were  obliged  to  give  up  our  home. 
Forty  dollars !  In  the  stillness  of  the  night  that 
sum,  as  I  reflected  upon  it,  dwindled  into  insig- 
nificance. I  reviewed  all  of  our  monetary  trans- 
actions that  I  could  think  of,  and,  adding  up  the 
sum  total,  half  convinced  myself  that  we  must 
have  made  a  mistake  in  the  counting  thatevening. 
194 


A   SLEEPLESS   NIGHT  195 

"  I'm  quite  sure  that  there's  more  than  forty 
dollars,"  I  told  myself,  turning  over  my  hot  pil- 
low in  search  of  a  cooler  side,  and  giving  it  a 
vigorous  shake.  "  I'm  quite  sure !  There's  the 
money  for  Mr.  Horton's  mending,  that  was  forty 
cents ;  and  Miss  Jones's  wrapper  was  two  dol- 
lars; and  that  setting  of  eggs  that  I  sold  to 
Jennie  Speers — I  don't  remember  whether  they 
were  two  dollars  or  only  fifty  cents.  Oh,  dear ! 
And  there  was  Cleo's  calf;  that  was — I  don't 
remember  how  much  it  was !" 

The  longer  I  remembered  and  added  up,  and 
remembered  and  subtracted,  the  less  I  really 
knew.  By  the  time  that  my  fifth  reckoning 
had  reduced  our  hoard  to  twenty -seven  dollars 
I  would  gladly  have  gotten  up  and  counted  the 
money  again,  but  Jessie  had  it  in  charge  and  I 
did  not  know  where  she  kept  it.  It  was  small 
consolation  in  the  desperate  state  of  uncertainty 
into  which  I  had  worked  myself  to  reflect  that 
I  had  only  myself  to  blame  for  this.  Being  a 
somewhat  imaginative  young  person,  I  had 
reasoned  that  if  burglars  were  to  break  into  the 


196  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

house  and  demand  to  know  the  whereabouts  of 
our  hidden  wealth  it  might  be  possible  for  Jessie, 
who  knew,  to  escape,  taking  her  knowledge  with 
her,  while  I,  who  did  not  know,  might  safely 
stand  by  that  declaration.  It  was  rather  a  far- 
fetched theory,  but  Jessie  had  willingly  sub- 
scribed to  it.  If  not  actually  apprehensive  of 
robbery,  she  was,  perhaps,  more  inclined  to  trust 
to  her  own  quiet  temper,  in  a  case  of  emergency, 
than  to  my  warmer  one.  At  the  same  time  she 
understood  very  well  that  I  had  an  unusual 
talent  for  silence.  It  was  this  talent  that  induced 
me  to  stay  my  hand  late  that  night  just  as  I  was 
on  the  point  of  rousing  Jessie  and  asking  her 
where  she  had  put  the  money.  She  was  sleeping 
soundly  and  she  was  very  tired. 

"  I'll  count  it  all  over  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,"  I  thought ;  and  with  the  resolution, 
dropped  off  to  sleep. 

It  was  very  late  when  I  awoke.  Ralph  was 
still  sleeping,  but  Jessie  had  risen,  and  was  mov- 
ing quietly  about  the  house.  Above  the  slight 
noise  that  she  made  I  heard  distinctly  the 


A    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT  197 

pu-r — rr  of  falling  water,  and  knew  that  it 
was  raining  heavily.  With  the  knowledge,  the 
recollection  that  Joe  had  gone  came  back  to  me 
with  an  unusual  sense  of  aggravation.  Joe  had 
always  done  the  milking,  and  it  had  not  rained 
since  he  left.  Dressing  noiselessly,  in  order 
not  to  disturb  Ralph,  I  went  out  into  the 
kitchen.  Jessie  looked  up  as  I  entered.  "  I'll 
help  you  milk  this  morning,  Leslie,"  she  said. 
"  It's  too  bad  for  you  to  have  to  putter  around 
in  the  rain  while  I'm  dry  in  the  house." 

"  There's  no  use  in  our  both  getting  wet,"  I 
returned,  ungraciously.  "You'd  much  better 
finish  getting  breakfast  and  keep  watch  of 
Ralph.  If  he  were  to  waken  and  find  us  both 
gone  he'd  probably  start  out  a  relief  expedition 
of  one  in  any  direction  that  took  his  fancy. 
He'd  be  glad  of  the  chance  to  get  out  in  the 
rain." 

"  Who  would  have  thought  of  its  raining  so 
soon  when  we  came  home  last  night.  There 
wasn't  a  cloud  in  sight." 

"  There's  none  in  sight  now ;  we're  inside  of 


198  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

one  so  thick  that  we  can't  see  out.  I  dare  say 
we'll  encounter  more  than  one  rain-storm  '  while 
the  days  are  going  by ';  but  it  would  be  handy 
if  Joe  were  here  this  morning." 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  I  only  hope  Joe's  conscience 
acquits  him,  wherever  he  is." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  does — if  he  has  a  con- 
science— for  I  suppose  that's  what  you  would 
call  his  feeling  obliged  to  worry  about  us,"  I 
said,  in  quick  defence  of  the  absent  friend  whose 
actions  I  might  secretly  question,  but  of  whom 
I  could  not  bear  that  another  should  speak 
slightingly. 

I  put  on  my  old  felt  hat  and  took  up  the 
milk-pail.  Jessie  was  busy  over  something  that 
she  was  cooking  in  a  skillet  on  the  stove,  but  she 
glanced  up  as  I  opened  the  door,  and  a  dash  of 
rain  came  swirling  in. 

"  Why,  Leslie  Gordon !  Are  you  going  out 
in  this  storm  dressed  like  that  ?  Here,  put  on 
my  mackintosh." 

I  had  forgotten  all  about  wraps,  but  a  shawl 
or  cape  would  have  been  better  than  the  long 


A    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT  199 

mackintosh  that  Jessie  insisted  upon  buttoning 
me  into.  It  was  too  long;  the  skirts  nearly 
tripped  me  up  as  I  started  to  run  down  the  path 
to  the  corral,  and  when  I  held  it  up  it  was  little 
protection. 

The  corral  where  the  cows  were  usually 
penned  over-night  was  behind  the  barn.  As  I 
came  in  sight  of  it  a  feeling  of  almost  despair 
swept  over  me.  The  corral  bars  were  down, 
and  the  cows  were  gone  !  I  hung  the  milk-pail 
bottom-side  up  on  one  of  the  bar  posts.  The 
raindrops  played  a  lively  tattoo  on  its  resound- 
ing sides,  while  I  dropped  the  mackintosh  skirt, 
regardless  of  its  trailing  length,  and  stood  still, 
trying  to  recollect  that  I  had  put  up  the  bars 
after  we  had  finished  milking  on  the  previous 
evening.  Search  my  memory  as  I  might,  how- 
ever, I  could  not  find  that  I  had  taken  this 
simple  but  necessary  precaution,  and,  if  I  had 
forgotten  it,  it  was  useless  to  suppose  that  Jessie 
had  not. 

"  It's  just  my  negligence  !"  I  remarked,  scorn- 
fully, to  my  drenched  surroundings ;  "just  my 


200  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

negligence,  and  now  I  shall  have  to  hunt  for 
those  cows,  and  in  this  rain  that  shuts  everything 
out  it  will  be  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a 
haymow." 

I  took  down  the  pail,  seeming  to  take  down 
an  entire  chorus  of  singing  water  witches  with 
it,  and  retraced  my  steps  to  the  house.  Even 
this  simple  act  was  performed  with  some  diffi- 
culty, for  again  I  stepped  on  the  mackintosh 
and  nearly  fell. 

"  You've  been  very  quick  with  the  milking, 
and  breakfast's  all  ready,"  Jessie  remarked, 
cheerfully,  as  I  entered,  and  then,  catching  sight 
of  the  empty  pail,  she  exclaimed,  "  Why,  what's 
the  matter  ?" 

When  I  told  her,  she  said,  reproachfully, 
"  Leslie,  of  course  I  supposed  that  you  would 
put  up  the  bars  after  we  had  finished  milking 
last  night !" 

I  am  afraid  that  I  was  cross  as  well  as  tired  : 
"  Why,  '  of  course,'  Jessie  ?  Why  is  it,  can 
you  tell  me,  that  there  is  always  some  one  mem- 
ber of  a  family  who  is  supposed,  quite  as  a  mat- 


A    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT  201 

ter  of  course,  to  make  good  the  shortcomings 
and  long-goings  of  all  the  others  ?  To  straighten 
out  the  domestic  tangles,  to  remember,  always 
remember,  what  the  others  forget ;  to  be  good- 
tempered  when  others  are  ill-tempered ;  to — " 

Jessie  laid  a  brown  little  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
checking  the  torrent  of  my  eloquence  ;  she  laid 
her  cheek  against  my  own  for  a  passing  instant. 

"  That's  all  easily  answered,  Leslie  dear.  The 
some  one  that  you  describe  is  the  soul  of  a 
house.  When  a  house  has  the  misfortune  not 
to  have  such  an  one  in  it,  it  has  no  soul ;  the 
other  members  are  merely  forms,  moving  forms, 
with  impulses." 

I  knew  that  she  meant  to  compliment  me,  but 
I  would  not  appear  to  know  it. 

"  I  suppose,  then,"  I  returned,  with  affected 
resentment,  "  that  I  am  a  form  with  impulses. 
One  of  the  impulses  just  now  is  to  eat  break- 
fast." 

"  Me  hundry ;  me  eat  breffkuss,  too,"  pro- 
claimed a  shrill,  familiar  voice  at  my  elbow.  I 
had  already  taken  my  seat  at  the  table. 


202  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  Eat  your  breakfast,  Leslie,"  said  Jessie;  "I'll 
dress  Ralph.  After  breakfast,  perhaps,  I  had 
better  go  with  you  after  the  cows  ?"  She  spoke 
with  some  hesitation.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
does  not  begin  to  know  the  cattle  trails  as  I  know 
them. 

"  No,"  I  said ;  "  I'll  go  alone,  Jessie ;  I  can 
find  them  much  quicker  than  you  could." 

"They  may  not  have  gone  far."  Jessie  ad- 
vanced this  proposition  hopefully. 

"  Far  enough,  I'll  warrant.  I  believe  there's 
nothing  that  a  cow  likes  so  well  as  to  chase 
around  on  a  morning  like  this  ;  especially  if  she 
thinks  some  one  is  hunting  for  her." 

"  You  can  take  one  of  the  horses — "  Jessie 
began,  and,  in  the  irritated  state  of  my  mind,  it 
was  some  satisfaction  to  be  able  to  promptly 
veto  that  proposition. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed  !  I  shall  have  to  go  on  foot. 
It  seems  you  turned  them  out  to  pasture  last 
night.  I  think  you  must  have  forgotten  how 
hard  it  is  to  catch  either  of  the  horses  when 
they  are  both  let  out  at  once," 


A    SLEEPLESS    NIGHT  203 

My  sister  had  the  grace  to  blush  slightly, 
which  consoled  me  a  good  deal.  I  hoped  that, 
either  as  a  soul  or  a  form  with  impulses,  she  re- 
membered that  father  or  Joe  had  never  made  a 
practice  of  letting  both  horses  out  at  once. 
When  one  was  in  the  barn,  his  mate  in  the  pas- 
ture could  be  easily  caught.  Otherwise,  the 
catching  was  a  work  of  labor  and  of  pain.  Once, 
indeed,  when  both  had  been  inadvertently 
turned  out  together,  father  had  been  obliged  to 
hire  a  cowboy  to  come  with  his  lariat  and  rope 
Jim,  the  principal  offender.  When  Jim,  with 
the  compelling  noose  about  his  neck,  had  been 
led  ignominiously  back  to  the  stable,  father  had 
told  us  never  to  let  them  out  together  again,  a 
warning  that  Jessie  evidently  recalled  now  for 
the  first  time. 

"  Dear  me,  Leslie  !  I'm  dreadfully  sorry  !" 
she  exclaimed,  lifting  Ralph  into  his  high  chair  ; 
"  I  just  meant  to  save  a  little  work,  and  I  guess 
I've  brought  on  no  end  of  it !" 

"  Perhaps  not ;  we'll  leave  the  barn  door  open. 
It's  so  cold  that  they  may  go  in  of  their  own 


204  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

accord  after  a  while."  And  that  was  what  they 
did  do,  along  in  the  afternoon,  when  it  was 
quite  too  late  for  them  to  be  of  any  service  that 
day. 

My  hasty  breakfast  finished,  I  got  up  from 
the  table.  "  I  am  going  right  away,  Jessie ;  it 
will  never  do  to  let  the  cows  lie  out  all  day." 

"  No,"  Jessie  assented.  She  was  waiting  on 
Ralph.  I  had  thrown  the  mackintosh  over  a 
chair  near  the  stove.  I  had  had  enough  of  that, 
but  I  must  wear  something.  Picking  up  the 
big  felt  hat,  I  went  into  the  next  room  and 
looked  into  a  closet  where  a  number  of  garments 
were  hanging.  Back  in  the  corner,  partially 
hidden  under  some  other  clothing,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  worn  gray  coat — the  coat  that 
father  had  loaned  Joe  on  that  fatal  morning 
months  ago.  The  rain  dashed  fiercely  against 
the  window  panes  as  it  had  on  that  morning, 
too,  and  the  sad,  dull  day  seemed  to  grow  sadder 
and  grayer.  With  a  sudden,  homesick  longing 
for  father's  love  and  sympathy,  I  took  down  the 
coat.  Tears  sprang  to  my  eyes  at  sight  of  the 


A   SLEEPLESS    NIGHT  205 

big,  aggressive  patch  on  the  left  sleeve.  Father 
had  praised  me  for  that  bit  of  clumsy  workman- 
ship at  which  Jessie  had  laughed.  I  resolved 
to  wear  the  coat.  "  I  shall  feel  as  if  father  were 
with  me,"  I  thought,  as  I  slipped  it  on.  Going 
out  at  the  front  door  I  did  not  again  encounter 
Jessie,  but  as  I  passed  the  kitchen  windows  I  saw 
her  glance  up  and  look  at  me  with  a  startled  air. 
It  was  still  raining  heavily  and  I  started  out 
on  a  fast  walk.  Crossing  the  foot-bridge  below 
the  house  I  ascended  the  hill  on  the  other  side. 
The  cattle  always  crossed  the  river  without  the 
aid  of  the  foot-bridge,  however,  and  took  this 
route  to  the  upper  range,  where  they  were  pretty 
sure  to  be  now.  I  hoped  that  the  pursuit  would 
not  lead  me  far  among  the  hills.  While  thus 
in  the  open  the  situation  was  not  unpleasant ;  I 
rather  enjoyed  the  feeling  of  the  rain  drops  in 
my  face.  Just  as  I  gained  the  crest  of  the  hill 
beyond  the  river  I  heard  some  one  shouting, 
and,  looking  back,  saw  Jessie.  She  was  out  in 
the  yard  in  the  rain  calling  and  waving  the 
apron  that  she  had  snatched  off  for  the  purpose. 


206  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

With  the  noise  of  the  rain  and  the  rushing  river 
it  was  impossible  to  make  out  what  she  was 
saying.  I  was  sure,  though,  that  she  merely 
wished  to  remonstrate  with  me  for  not  wearing 
the  mackintosh.  I  waved  my  hand  to  let  her 
know  that  I  saw  her,  and  then  hurried  on  down 
the  farther  slope  of  the  hill.  I  walked  fast  for 
a  long  distance  without  coming  upon  any  trace 
of  the  cattle,  and  then  I  fell  gradually  into  the 
slower  pace  that  is  meant  for  staying.  As  I  did 
so  my  thoughts  again  reverted  to  the  money- 
counting  problem  that  had  vexed  me  over  night. 
In  the  re-assuring  light  of  day  it  did  not  seem 
so  entirely  probable  that  Jessie  had  been  so 
mistaken  in  her  count,  and  it  did  not  so  much 
matter  that  I  had  forgotten  after  all  to  ask  her 
where  the  money  was  kept. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A   QUEER   BANK 

IN  spite  of  obliterating  rain,  there  were  plenty 
of  fresh  cattle  tracks  along  and  by  the  side  of 
the  trail.  It  did  not  necessarily  follow  that  any 
of  the  tracks  were  made  by  our  cattle,  still,  they 
might  have  been,  and  with  this  slight  encour- 
agement, I  hurried  along,  getting  gradually 
higher,  and  deeper  into  the  mountains.  As  I 
went  I  reflected  bitterly  on  the  perversity  of 
cow  nature.  A  nature  that  leads  these  gentle 
seeming  creatures  to  endure  hunger,  thirst,  and 
weariness,  to  push  for  miles  into  a  trackless 
wilderness,  if  by  so  doing  they  can  put  their 
owners  to  trouble  and  expense.  It  was  not  often 
that  our  cattle  ranged  so  far  away  from  home, 
and  it  was  with  a  little  unconfessed  feeling  of 
dismay  that,  pausing  to  take  stock  of  my  sur- 
roundings, I  suddenly  discovered  that  I  was 
close  upon  the  Hermit's  cave,  and  no  signs  of 

207 


208  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

the  strays  yet.  At  the  same  time  I  made 
another  discovery  as  comforting  as  this  was  dis- 
disquieting.  Guard,  whom  I  had  forgotten  to 
invite  to  accompany  me,  was  skulking  along  in 
the  underbrush  beside  the  trail,  uncertain 
whether  to  show  himself  or  not.  When  I  spoke 
to  him  he  bounded  to  my  side.  "  Guard,"  I 
said,  looking  down  at  him  thoughtfully,  "  it's 
raining  harder  than  ever,  and  the  wind  is  blow- 
ing ;  now  that  you  are  with  me,  I  think  we  will 
just  stop  in  the  cave  until  the  storm  abates  a 
little."  Guard's  bushy  tail  was  wet  and  heavy 
with  rain,  but  he  wagged  it  approvingly,  and 
toward  the  cave  we  started.  There  was  a  green 
little  valley  over  the  ridge,  and  I  resolved  when 
the  storm  slackened,  to  climb  up  and  have  a 
look  into  it.  If  the  cattle  were  not  there  I 
should  be  compelled  to  give  over  the  hunt  for 
that  day. 

A  sudden  lull  in  the  storm  was  followed  by  a 
blacker  sweep  of  clouds  and  a  resounding  peal 
of  thunder,  the  prelude  to  a  pitiless  burst  of  hail- 
stones. Pelted  by  the  stinging  missiles,  and 


A   QUEER    BANK  209 

gasping  for  breath  as  I  struggled  against  the 
rising  wind,  I  made  for  the  cave  with  Guard 
close  at  my  heels,  and  dashed  into  the  gloomy 
cavern  without  a  thought  of  anything  but 
shelter. 

The  entrance  to  the  cave  was  merely  a  large 
opening  in  a  pile  of  rocks  close  beside  the  cattle 
trail,  and  the  cave  itself  was  famous  throughout 
the  valley  solely  because  of  its  imagined  history 
and  its  actual  equipment.  Because  of  its  near- 
ness to  the  trail  there  was  little  danger  of  its 
becoming  a  lair  for  wild  beasts.  People  said 
that  the  spot  had  been  the  dwelling  place  of  a 
man,  educated  and  wealthy,  who  had  chosen  to 
live  and  die  alone  in  the  wilderness.  How  they 
came  to  know  this  was  never  quite  clear,  for  the 
furnishing  of  the  cave  was  there,  offering  its 
mute  history  to  the  first  venturesome  hunter 
who  had  penetrated  these  wilds  years  and  years 
ago,  just  as  it  was  offered  to  the  curious  to-day. 
The  educational  theory  could  probably  be  traced 
to  the  torn  and  yellowing  fragments  of  a  book 
that  lay  on  the  rude  table  opposite  the  cavern 

14 


210  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

entrance.  How  many  inquisitive  fingers  had 
turned  its  baffling  pages,  how  many  curious  eyes 
had  vainly  scanned  them  in  the  course  of  the 
slow  moving  years  in  which  the  cavern  held  its 
secret?  The  book  was  written  in  a  language 
quite  unknown  to  us  simple  folk.  For  the 
theory  of  wealth  the  rusty,  crumbling  old  flint- 
lock musket,  leaning  against  the  wall  beside 
the  table,  was  silver  mounted  and  heavily 
chased.  Beside  the  table  was  a  rude  bench 
made  from  a  section  of  sawed  pine.  That  was 
all,  but  impressive  legends  have  been  handed 
down,  from  one  generation  to  another,  on  less 
foundation  than  the  cave  furnished  to  our  valley 
romanticists.  It  was  not  even  odd  to  us  that  no 
one  in  all  these  years  had  stolen  or  desecrated 
the  pathetic  mementos  of  a  vanished  life.  People 
on  the  frontier  have  a  great  respect — a  respect 
not  necessarily  enforced  with  lock  and  key — for 
the  belongings  of  another.  The  mountings  of  the 
gun  were  of  solid  silver,  but  I  doubt  if  even  Mr. 
Horton  could  have  justified  himself  to  himself 
in  taking  it.  I  had  been  in  the  place  once  or 


A    QUEER    BANK  211 

twice  and  had  turned  over  the  untelling  leaves 
with  reverent  fingers,  but  I  had  never  felt  any 
inclination  to  linger  within  the  gloomy  walls ; 
the  sunlight  on  the  cattle  trail  outside  had 
greater  allurements,  but  now,  beaten  by  the  hail, 
I  rushed  in  headlong,  and  in  doing  so  nearly 
fell  over  the  body  of  a  man  lying  outstretched 
on  the  stone  floor,  just  within  the  entrance.  The 
man  was  evidently  sleeping,  and  very  soundly, 
for  my  tumultuous  rush  roused  him  so  little 
that  he  merely  turned  on  one  side,  sighed,  and 
again  relapsed  into  deepest  slumber.  I  stood  in 
my  tracks,  trembling,  undecided  whether  to  dash 
out  into  the  storm  or  run  the  risk  of  remaining 
in  the  cavern.  The  fierce  rattle  of  the  hail 
beating  on  the  rocks  outside  decided  me  to  do 
the  latter.  Noiselessly,  step  by  step,  I  stole 
backward  into  the  darkness  of  the  cavern.  My 
backward  progress  was  checked  at  last  by  the 
corner  of  the  table  against  which  I  brought  up. 
I  glanced  down  at  it.  It  was  laden  with  a  reg- 
ular cowboy  equipment  of  spurs,  quirt,  revolver, 
cartridge  belt,  and  the  too  common  accompani- 


212  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

ment  of  a  bottle  of  whiskey.  If  the  sleeping 
man  on  the  floor  were  called  on  to  defend  him- 
self for  any  cause  he  need  not  suffer  for  want  of 
ammunition.  I  had  less  fear  of  his  awakening 
since  seeing  the  half-emptied  bottle,  but  far 
greater  fear  of  what  he  might  do  when  he  did 
awake. 

Surely,  there  never  was  a  wiser  dog  than 
Guard !  He  had  not  made  a  sound  since  our 
entrance,  although  he  had  certainly  cocked  a 
disdainful  eye  at  the  recumbent  figure  on  the 
floor  as  we  passed  it.  Now,  in  obedience  to  the 
warning  of  my  uplifted  finger,  he  crept  silently 
to  my  side.  He  watched  my  movements  with 
an  air  of  intelligent  comprehension  as  I  quietly 
took  possession  of  the  bottle,  revolver,  and  car- 
tridge belt,  and  then  followed  me  without  a 
sound  as  I  stole  breathlessly  into  the  deepest 
recess  of  the  cavern.  The  rocky  roof  sloped 
down  over  this  recess,  until,  at  its  farthest  ex- 
tremity, there  was  scarcely  room  for  a  person  to 
crouch  under  it,  close  to  the  wall,  and  it  was  so 
dark  that  I  could  barely  make  out  the  form  of 


A   QUEER   BANK  213 

the  dog  crouching  beside  me.  Safe  hidden  in 
the  darkness,  I  determined  to  rid  the  sleeping 
man  of  at  least  one  of  his  enemies.  Pulling  the 
cork  from  the  bottle,  I  poured  its  contents  on 
the  rocks,  thereby,  as  I  found,  running  immi- 
nent risk  of  a  sneeze  from  Guard,  who  rolled 
his  head  from  side  to  side  in  distress  as  the 
pungent  liquor  penetrated  his  nostrils.  The 
danger  passed,  luckily,  without  noise.  We 
crouched  in  perfect  silence,  waiting  for  the  hail- 
storm to  pass.  It  was  too  violent  to  be  of  long 
duration,  yet  I  could  not  tell,  after  some  min- 
utes of  anxious  listening,  when  it  ceased,  for  the 
hail  was  followed  by  a  fresh  deluge  of  rain.  It 
was  comfortable  in  the  cavern — warm  and  dry. 
The  man,  as  his  regular  breathing  testified, 
slept  soundly,  and  I  thought,  while  I  waited, 
that  I,  too,  might  as  well  make  myself  easy. 
Softly  pulling  off  the  wet  coat,  I  turned  the 
dryest  side  outward,  and,  rolling  it  into  a  com- 
pact bundle,  placed  it  under  my  head  for  a 
pillow.  With  the  sleeper's  armament  between 
myself  and  the  rock  at  my  back,  with  Guard 


214  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

vigilantly  alive  to  any  motion  of  anything,  in- 
side the  cavern  or  out,  I  felt  entirely  safe,  and 
wearily  closed  my  eyes.  It  was  pleasant  lying 
there  so  sheltered  and  guarded,  to  listen  to  the 
heavy  rush  of  the  rain — or  was  it  hail  ? — or  the 
far-heard  cry  of  wolves,  or  the  rushing  swirl  of 
the  river.  I  had  not  slept  well  the  night  before, 
but  I  could  not  have  been  asleep  many  minutes 
when  I  was  awakened  by  a  low  growl  from 
Guard.  Brief  as  my  nap  had  been,  it  was, 
nevertheless,  so  sound  that  at  first  I  was  bewil- 
dered and  unable  to  recall  what  had  happened. 
I  started  up  quickly,  bumping  my  head  against 
the  rocky  roof,  and  so  effectually  recalling  my 
scattered  senses  and  the  necessity  for  caution. 

The  sleeping  cowboy  had  also  awakened  and 
was  wandering  aimlessly  about  the  cavern.  He 
was  muttering  to  himself,  and  his  incoherent 
talk  soon  told  me  that  he  was  in  anxious  quest 
of  the  bottle  that  I  was  at  that  moment  sitting 
upon. 

The  sound  of  his  own  voice  had,  apparently, 
drowned  that  of  Guard's.  Seeing  this  I  put 


A    QUEER    BANK  215 

one  hand  on  that  attendant's  collar  and  shook 
the  other  threateningly  in  his  face.  He  had  been 
standing  up,  but  sat  down,  with,  I  was  sure  from 
the  very  feel  of  his  fur,  a  most  discontented  ex- 
pression. In  the  silence  the  stranger's  plaint 
made  itself  distinctly  audible  : 

"  Leff  'em  on  a  table ;  'n'  whar  is  they  at 
now  ?  Reckon  I  must  V  been  locoed,  or,  like 
'miff  that  ar  ole  hermutt's  done  played  a  trick 
on  me.  S'h'd  think  he'd  have  more  principle 
than  t'  play  a  trick  on  a  pore  feller  what's  jest 
stopped  t'  rest  in  his  hole  for  a  few  hours." 

He  overturned  the  bench  to  peer  inquiringly 
at  the  place  where  it  had  stood,  then,  straight- 
ening himself  as  well  as  he  could — which  was 
not  very  well — he  looked  slowly  around  the 
cavern.  "  It  stan's  to  reason,"  he  muttered 
thoughtfully,  "that  if  airy  one  had  come  in 
whilst  I  was  asleep  I'd  'a'  woke  up, so  the  hermutt 
must  V  done  it.  What  a  ghost  kin  want  of  a 
gun  beats  me,  too !  Why  in  thunderation 
didn't  he  take  his  ole  flint-lock,  if  he  was  wantin' 
a  gun  so  mighty  bad,  instead  of  sneakin'  back 


216  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

t'  rob  a  pore  feller  in  his  sleep  !  I  wonder  if 
the  ole  thing  is  loaded,  anyway.  There's  a  pair 
of  eyes  shiuin'  back  yon  in  the  corner ;  I  ain't 
afeared  of  'em,  but  I  wisht  he'd  'a'  left  my  gun. 
Who's  agoin  t'  draw  a  bead  on  a  pair  of  eyes  in 
the  dark  with  a  ole  flint-lock  that  you  have  to 
build  a  bonfire  around  before  the  powder'll 
take  fire?" 

Clearly,  as  his  drunken  muttering  told,  he  had 
caught  the  gleam  of  Guard's  angry  eyes,  yet,  it 
was  evident,  as  he  had  said,  that  he  was  not  at 
all  afraid.  Wild  beast  or  tame,  it  was  all  one  to 
him,  that  I  well  knew,  for  now  that  he  was  on 
his  feet,  and  standing  in  the  shaft  of  pale  light 
streaming  in  at  the  cavern  entrance,  I  recog- 
nized him  as  Big  Jim. 

Big  Jim  was  a  cowboy  with  a  more  than  local 
fame  for  reckless  daring,  as  well  as  for  his  un- 
fortunate appetite  for  strong  drink.  I  had  seen 
him  but  once  before,  but  I  had  been  able  on  that 
occasion  to  render  him  a  slight  service.  It  did 
not  seem  to  me,  however,  as  I  crouched  tremb- 
ling under  the  rock,  watching  his  irresponsible 


A   QUEER    BANK  217 

movements,  that  the  memory  of  that  service 
would  aid  my  cause  with  him  just  now,  even  if 
I  were  daring  enough  to  recall  it.  People  said 
that  Big  Jim  never  forgave  any  one  who  came 
between  him  and  his  whiskey  bottle.  Recalling 
this  gossip,  as  the  man  staggered  toward  the 
corner  where  the  rusty  old  musket  stood,  I  de- 
cided that  it  was  time  to  act.  The  flint-lock, 
even  if  loaded,  would  probably  be  as  harmless 
in  his  incapable  hands  as  any  other  iron  rod, 
but  under  the  circumstances  it  did  not  look  par- 
ticularly safe  to  linger. 

As  the  man's  back  was  turned  I  sprang  sud- 
denly to  my  feet.  "  Seek  him,  Guard  !  Take 
him !"  I  cried,  and  Guard  literally  obeyed. 
Startled  and  sobered  by  the  sound  of  a  voice, 
Big  Jim  whirled  around,  facing  the  direction 
whence  the  voice  came,  to  be  met  by  the  dog's 
fierce  charge.  Guard's  leap  was  so  impetuous 
that  the  man  staggered  under  it,  and,  losing  his 
balance,  fell  to  the  floor.  Guard  fastened  his 
teeth  in  the  skirt  of  his  coat  as  he  fell.  There 
was  a  momentary  struggle  on  the  floor.  While 


218  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

it  was  taking  place  I  darted  out  of  the  cavern, 
revolver,  cartridge-belt,  and  even  the  empty 
whiskey  bottle  in  my  hands.  Safely  outside,  I 
halted,  and  with  what  little  breath  I  had  left 
whistled  for  Guard.  A  load  was  off  my  heart 
when  the  dog  came  bounding  to  my  side,  none 
the  worse  for  his  brief  encounter  with  an  un- 
armed cowboy. 

I  had  hoped  to  get  out  of  sight  before  Big 
Jim  discovered  me,  but  he  came  out  of  the  cav- 
ern on  Guard's  heels.  Evidently  quite  sobered, 
he  stopped  when  he  saw  me.  He  glanced  at  the 
armament  in  my  hands,  at  the  empty  bottle, 
and,  lifting  his  hat  with  its  great  napping  brim, 
scratched  his  head  in  perplexity.  It  was  still 
raining,  a  fact  which  Big  Jim  seemed  suddenly 
to  discover. 

"  Wet,  aint't  it  ?"  he  observed. 

"  Rain  is  usually  wet,"  I  informed  him,  witli 
unnecessary  explicitness. 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  'tis.  Say,  that's  my  bottle 
you've  got  in  your  hands." 

"  So  I  supposed." 


A    QUEER    BANK  219 

"  You  re  welcome  to  the  whiskey — I  see  it's 
gone,  and  'tis  a  good  thing  to  take  off  a  chill — 
when  a  body  gets  wet — but  I'd  like  the  bottle 
again." 

"  I  am  going  to  put  the  bottle  and  the  re- 
volver and  the  belt  in  the  hollow  of  the  big 
pine  near  the  lower  crossing.  You  can  get  them 
there." 

"  Oh,  ain't  you  goin'  t'  give  'em  to  me  now  ?" 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

"  'Fraid  of  me,  I  reckon." 

"Yes, I  am." 

"  I  won't  hurt  you,  Miss  Leslie  Gordon.  I 
remember  you  first-rate.  Got  that  little  white 
handkercher  that  you  done  up  my  hand  in  the 
day  I  burned  it  so  at  the  Alton  camp  yet." 

"  You  might  not  hurt  me,  but  I  think  you 
would  hurt  my  dog." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Gordon,  I'm  'bleeged  t'  say  that 
if  I  had  a  shootin'  iron  in  my  hands  jest  now 
I'd  be  mighty  glad  t'  let  daylight  through  that 
dog  o'  yourn.  He's  too  fractious  t'  live  in  the 
same  country  as  a  white  man." 


220  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

I  grasped  the  revolver  tighter.  "  How  came 
you  in  the  cavern  ?" 

"  Well,  if  you  want  t'  know,  I  took  a  drop 
too  much  at  the  dance  last  night,  an'  the  ole 
man,  he'd  said  if  sech  a  thing  as  that  ar'  took 
place  again  he'd  feel  obligated  t'  give  me  the 
marble  heart.  Mighty  cranky  the  ole  man  is. 
So  I  jest  wended  up  here  along,  thiiikin'  I'd 
bunk  with  the  ole  hermutt  till  I  got  a  little 
nigher  straight.  It's  a  thing  that  don't  often 
happen,"  he  added,  in  self-extenuation  ;  "  but 
the  party,  it  done  got  away  with  me.  Now  you 
know  all  about  it,  an'  you'd  better  hand  over 
them  weapons." 

In  spite  of  his  civility,  he  was  plainly  angry, 
and  I  was  the  more  resolved  not  to  yield.  The 
storm  had  been  gradually  lessening,  the  rain 
had  subsided  to  a  mere  drizzle,  and,  in  the  in- 
creasing silence,  I  plainly  heard  the  musical 
tinkle  of  old  Cleo's  bell.  It  came  from  beyond 
the  ridge,  so  that  it  was  certain  that  the  cows 
were  in  the  little  green  valley  where  I  had  hoped 
to  find  them.  I  started  to  climb  the  ridge,  re- 


"YOU   BETTER   HAND   OVER   THEM   WEAPONS!" 
(Page  220) 


A    QUEER    BANK  221 

marking  over  my  shoulder  to  the  baffled  cow- 
boy, "  You'll  find  your  things  in  the  pine,  where 
I  told  you." 

"  Say,  now,  don't  make  me  go  down  there  on 
the  high  road  !"  he  pleaded ;  "  some  one  might 
see  me  and  tell  the  boss.  I  won't  touch  the  con- 
sarned  dog  if  you'll  give  me  the  gun ;  I  won't, 
honest !  The  boss,  he  thinks  I'm  on  the  range 
now,  an'  it's  where  I  had  ort  to  be." 

I  was  sorry  for  him,  but  my  fear  was  greater 
than  my  sympathy.  Guard  had  torn  the  skirt 
of  his  coat  in  such  a  manner  that  it  trailed  be- 
hind as  he  walked,  like  a  long  and  very  disrep- 
utable pennant,  and  I  could  not  be  blind  to  the 
malevolent  looks  that  he  turned  on  my  canine 
follower  in  spite  of  his  fair  promises. 

"  I  never  heard  of  any  one's  being  the 
better  for  drinking  whiskey,"  I  volunteered, 
as  a  bit  of  information  that  might  be  of 
interest  to  him.  Then  I  started  on  again,  to 
be  brought  to  an  abrupt  halt  by  hearing  a 
voice  on  the  trail  below  calling  in  a  tone  of 
piercing  anxiety : 


222  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  Leslie !  Leslie !  Leslie !"  The  voice  was 
Jessie's. 

"  Jessie,  I  am  here !"  I  called  back  re-assur- 
ingly,  and  ran  down  in  the  direction  of  the 
voice,  leaving  the  cowboy  staring. 

In  a  moment  I  came  face  to  face  with 
my  sister  as  she  panted,  breathless,  up  the 
trail. 

"  Oh,  Leslie !  Leslie !"  she  gasped.  "  What  a 
chase  I  have  had  after  you !" 

"  Why  did  you  follow  me  ?  I  have  the  cows 
— or  they  have  themselves — and  your  skirts  are 
all  wet." 

For  answer,  Jessie  gased  at  me  with  an  ex- 
pression curiously  compounded  of  horror  and 
dismay. 

"  The  coat !  Where  is  the  coat  ?"  she  gasped. 

I  remembered  then  that  in  my  eagerness  to 
escape  from  the  cave  I  had  left  the  coat  lying  as 
I  had  used  it,  rolled  up  for  a  pillow. 

"  It's  in  the  Hermit's  cave,"  I  said  meekly, 
ashamed  to  admit  that  I  had  forgotten  the  thing 
that  she  held  so  sacred  that,  for  its  sake,  she  had 


A    QUEER    BANK  223 

followed  me  in  the  rain  for  some  toilsome  up- 
ward miles. 

"Go  back  and  get  it  instantly,  instantly!" 
cried  my  usually  calm  sister,  wringing  her  hands 
in  distress.  The  distress  was  so  unnecessarily 
acute  for  the  cause  that  I  resented  it. 

"The  coat  is  all  right,  Jessie;  it  is  safe;  and 
I  do  not  want  to  go  back  there  now." 

"Why  not?" 

I  told  her. 

"You  must!"  said  Jessie,  with  whitening 
lips.  "  You  must !  Come !"  and  she  rushed  up 
the  trail  toward  the  cavern. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Ralph  ?"  I  asked, 
hurrying  after  her.  Jessie  turned  an  anguished 
glance  back  at  me  over  her  shoulder. 

"  I  have  left  him  locked  up  in  the  house  with 
a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  picture  book ;  hurry  !" 

"  I  hope  they'll  keep  him  from  thinking  of 
the  matches,"  I  said,  bitterly.  It  seemed  to  me 
at  that  moment  that  Jessie  showed  more  concern 
for  the  out-worn  garment  of  the  dead  than  she 
did  for  the  safety  of  the  living. 


224  TWO   WYOMING  GIRLS 

Big  Jim  had  gone  back  into  the  cavern ;  he, 
too,  had  evidently  been  searching  it,  for  when, 
at  the  sound  of  our  approaching  footsteps,  he 
appeared  at  the  entrance,  it  was  with  father's 
coat  in  his  hands.  Jessie  went  boldly  to  his  side. 

"  I  want  that  coat,  if  you  please,"  she  said 
firmly. 

Jim  backed  off  a  little,  holding  the  coat  out 
at  arm's  length,  and  examining  it  critically. 

"Whose  is  it  The  asked. 

"  It  was  my  father's ;  it  is  ours ;  please  give 
it  to  me." 

Big  Jim  shook  his  head.  "  No ;  your  dog 
done  tore  my  coat  half  offen  my  back;  your 
sister  made  way  with  my  tonic — I'm  bleeged  to 
take  it  for  my  lungs — an'  she's  got  my  gun  an* 
fixin's,  an'  won't  give  'em  up.  I  reckon  as  I'll 
jest  keep  this  coat  till  she  forks  them  things 
over." 

"  Give  him  his  things,  Leslie,"  Jessie  com- 
manded. 

"  No,"  I  remonstrated  ;  "  No,  Jessie,  if  I  do 
he  will  shoot  Guard  ;  I'm  sure  of  it." 


A    QUEER    BANK  225 

Jessie  turned  on  the  dog :  "  Go  home !  go 
home,  sir  !"  she  cried,  stamping  her  foot.  Guard 
slunk  off,  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  his  bright 
eyes  fixed  reproachfully  on  me.  I  threw  the 
gun  with  its  trappings  at  the  cowboy's  feet. 
"  There,  take  them  !  You  can  shoot  me  if  you 
like.  I  threw  away  your  whiskey." 

"  I  wouldn't  'a'  cared  a  bit  if  you'd  'a'  drunk 
it,  as  I  reckoned  you  did,"  Jim  returned  with  a 
light  laugh,  as  he  picked  up  the  gun.  "  I  ain't 
agoin'  to  hurt  you  ;  tole  you  so  in  the  first  place. 
Got  your  little  handkercher  yet,  I  have.  Here's 
the  coat."  He  tossed  it  into  Jessie's  outstretched 
arms.  Clasping  it  tightly  to  her  breast  she 
started  quickly  down  the  trail. 

Following  her  for  a  few  steps  before  tak- 
ing my  way  over  the  ridge,  I  observed 
that  her  hands  were  wandering  swiftly  over 
the  coat,  from  pocket  to  pocket ;  as  if  seek- 
ing something.  Suddenly  the  expression  of 
intense  anxiety  on  her  face  gave  way  to  one  of 
unspeakable  relief.  She  turned  around  quickly 
and  caught  my  hand :  "  Come  on,  you  poor, 

15 


226  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

abused  girl !     Let's  run,  I  am  so  anxious  about 
Ralph." 

"  I'm  glad  you've  got  some  affection  left  for 
him !"  I  retorted  scornfully.  "  It  seemed  to  me 
from  the  way  you've  gone  on,  that  you  cared  less 
for  either  of  us  than  for  father's  old  coat." 

Jessie  gave  the  hand  that  lay  limply  in  her's  an 
ecstatic  little  squeeze.  "  Our  money,  Leslie,  is 
all  in  a  little  bag  that  is  pinned  in  the  lining  of 
this  old  coat ;  it's  here  now,  all  safe." 

I  could  only  gasp,  as  she  had  done  before  me, 
with  a  difference  of  names,  "  Oh,  Jessie  !" 

"  Yes,"  Jessie  repeated,  nodding,  "  and  it's 
quite  safe,  I  can  feel  it.  Our  cowboy  friend  did 
not  have  time  to  find  it.  I  only  hope  that  Ralph 
has  not  got  into  mischief."  He  had  not.  I  was 
obliged  to  leave  Jessie  and  go  over  the  ridge  for 
the  cows,  but  she  told  me,  when  I  presently  fol- 
lowed her  into  the  house,  that  she  had  found 
Ralph  still  contentedly  destroying  his  picture- 
book. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

A   VITAL    POINT 

IT  was  the  day  but  one  after  our  exciting  trip 
to  the  Water  Storage  Reservoir  when,  as  we  were 
busy  about  our  usual  work,  our  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  loud  voice  at  the  gate,  shout- 
ing :  "  Whoa !  Whoa,  sir !  Whoa,  now,  I 
tell  you !"  and  I  was  guilty  of  a  disrespectful 
laugh. 

"  There  comes  Mr.  Wilson,  Jessie.  You  can 
always  tell  when  he  is  coming,  for  he  begins 
shouting  to  his  horses  to  stop  as  soon  as  he  sights 
a  point  where  he  wishes  them  to  halt.  Evidently 
he  is  intending  to  call  on  us." 

"  Good  morning,  young  folks,  good  morning !" 
was  the  hearty  salutation,  a  moment  after,  as  our 
neighbor  himself  stood  on  the  threshold. 

"  No,  I  can't  stop,"  he  declared,  as  usual,  when 
Jessie  offered  him  a  chair.  "  If  I  set,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  I  shall  stay  right  on,  like  a  big  clam 

227 


228  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

that's  got  fixed  to  his  liking,  pro'bly,  and  I've 
got  a  heap  to  do  to-day." 

Nevertheless,  he  dropped  easily  into  the  seat 
as  he  continued : 

"  Day  after  to-morrow's  the  day,  I  s'pose  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Jessie  responded,  dejectedly,  "  it  is." 

"  Hu — m — wal',  wal',  you  don't  seem  real 
animated  about  it,  if  you'll  excuse  my  saying  so. 
I  swan,  I  'lowed  you  all  would  be  right  pleased 
to  think  the  long  waiting's  so  nearly  over." 

"It  isn't  that,"  Jessie  told  him,  trying  to 
keep  her  lips  from  quivering,  "but — Joe  has 
gone." 

"What!" 

Jessie  repeated  the  statement. 

"Pshaw!  Now,  that's  too  bad !"  Mr.  Wilson 
exclaimed,  rubbing  his  hair  upright,  as  he 
always  did  when  perplexed.  "Wal',  I  don't 
know  when  I've  heard  anything  more  surpris- 
ing," he  continued,  when  Jessie  had  detailed  the 
manner  of  Joe's  disappearance  to  him  ;  "  I'd  a 
banked  on  that  old  man  to  the  last  breath  o' 
life.  And  he's  gone !  Appearances  are  all-fired 


A   VITAL   POINT  229 

deceiving  that's  so,  but  don't  you  grieve  over  it, 
girls ;  it'll  all  come  out  all  right  in  the  end. 
The  old  man  has  stayed  right  by  you  and  helped 
you  good  since  your  pa  was  taken,  but  we  must 
remember  that  he  never  was  in  the  habit  of 
tyin'  himself  down  to  one  place  before  this,  and, 
more'n  likely 's  not,  his  old,  rovin'  habits  have 
suddenly  proved  too  strong  fer  him,  and  he's 
jest  lit  out  because  he  couldn't  stan'  the  pressure 
any  longer." 

"  But  Joe  is  so  faithful ;  he  has  always  been 
just  like  one  of  the  family,  and  he  knows  so 
well  how  badly  we  need  him,"  I  objected ;  "  it 
does  not  seem  possible  for  him  to  have  deserted 
us." 

"  Desert  is  a  purty  ha'sh  word,  Miss  Leslie. 
There's  some  mystery  about  it,  -  take  my  word 
for  it.  Joe'll  be  back  again,  and  when  he  comes 
I'll  guarantee  that  he'll  be  able  to  give  some 
good  reason  for  going  away." 

Jessie  shook  her  head,  tearfully.  "  I  don't 
believe  he  will  ever  come  back,"  she  said. 

"  Wai',  s'pose  he  doesn't  ?     I  reckon  you  two 


230  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

ain't  goin'  to  let  go  your  grip  on  that  account. 
But  troubles  do  seem  to  kind  o'  thicken  around 
you!  That's  so." 

He  paused  a  moment,  musing  over  our 
troubles,  and  Ralph  took  advantage  of  his 
silence  to  call  his  attention  to  the  kitten  with 
which  one  of  the  neighbors  had  presented  him 
to  the  jealous  torment  of  his  old  playfellow,  the 
big  cat :  "  My  new  tat  tan  wink  wiv  bof  he  eyes, 
see  ?"  he  proclaimed,  holding  the  animal  up  for 
inspection. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see,  little  feller,"  was  the  absent 
reply. 

Encouraged,  Ralph  put  the  kitten  on  his  lap. 
"  Her  won't  bite ;  'oo  needn't  be  'fraid,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Wilson  stroked  the  small  cat  mechani- 
cally and  then  lifted  it  to  the  ground — using  its 
tail  for  a  handle,  to  Ralph's  speechless  indig- 
nation— then  he  faced  us  again,  his  forehead 
puckered  with  anxious  wrinkles :  "  There's  one 
thing  that  I  never  thought  of  until  early  this 
morning — when  I  did,  I  hurried  through  with 
my  chores  and  came  right  over  here.  It's  a 


A    VITAL   POINT  231 

stunner  to  find  that  Joe's  gone,  now,  in  addition 
to  all  the  rest,  but  we  must  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip.  Fact  is,  I'm  to  blame  for  not  thinking  of 
this  thing  six  weeks — yes,  three  months  ago. 
I  ought  to  have  thought  of  it,  children,"  he 
swept  us  all  with  a  compassionate  glance,  "  the 
day  that  your  father  died.  I'd  be  willing  to  bet 
a  big  sum,  if  I  was  a  betting  man — which  I'm 
thankful  to  say  that  I  ain't — that  Jake  Horton 
thought  of  it,  and  has  kept  it  well  in  mind  all 
along ;  he  ain't  the  man  to  overlook  such  a 
thing  as  that."  Wiping  his  perplexed  face  with 
the  red  silk  handkerchief  that  he  always  kept 
in  his  hat  for  that  purpose,  he  continued,  des- 
perately :  "  This  claim  was  taken  up,  lived  on, 
built  on,  notices  for  proving  up  by  Ralph  C. 
Gordon.  Ralph  C.  Gordon !  Wai',"  he  ran  his 
fingers  again  through  his  iron-gray  hair,  making 
it  stand  more  defiantly  upright  than  ever,  "  there 
ain't  no  Ralph  C.  Gordon  !" 

The  point  that  we  had  overlooked,  presented 
to  us  now,  for  the  first  time,  almost  on  the  eve 
of  our  proving  up,  was  of  such  vital  importance, 


232  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

as  it  occurred  to  our  awakened  understanding, 
that,  at  first,  we  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at 
each  other,  and  at  him,  in  stunned  dismay. 
But  hope,  as  that  saving  angel  will,  stirred, 
and  began  to  brighten  as  our  friend  pro- 
ceeded. 

"  There  are  ways,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  think- 
ing of  some  of  'em ;  but  I  am  desperate  afraid 
that  none  of  'em  will  do.  The  agent  might,  if 
he  was  disposed  to  be  obligin',  transfer  your 
father's  claim  to  you,  Jessie,  if  you  could  swear 
that  you  are  the  head  of  a  family,  and  that's 
what  you  can't  do — not  as  the  law  requires  it, 
you  can't.  The  law  don't  recognize  any  one  as 
the  head  of  a  family  until  of  legal  age.  Even 
if  you  were  of  legal  age,  the  agent  might  refuse, 
if  he  saw  fit.  If  he  should,  all  that  you  can 
do  will  be  to  file  on  the  claim  again  and  go  in 
for  another  five  years'  tussle  with  the  home- 
steading  problem.  'Pears  like  there  was  a  pretty 
fair  prospect  of  your  whole  family  coming  of 
age  before  another  siege  of  homesteading  is 
ended.  Why  didn't  I  think  of  all  this  before  ? 


A    VITAL   POINT  233 

'Cause  I'm  an  old  wooden  head,  I  'spose  !  No, 
I'm  mighty  afeard  that  the  only  thing  we  can 
do  is  for  you  to  jest  go  down  and  file  on  the 
land  in  your  own  name,  and  say  nothing  about 
age,  if  the  agent  asks  no  questions.  As  I  said 
before,  you'll  be  old  enough  for  anything  before 
it  comes  time  for  a  second  proving  up." 

Jessie,  who  had  been  listening  intently,  here 
suddenly  interposed  with  sparkling  eyes,  "I'm 
old  enough  now,  Mr.  Wilson,  or,  at  least,  I  shall 
be  to-morrow.  To-morrow  is  my  birthday,  and 
I  shall  be  eighteen  !" 

Mr.  Wilson  sprang  up  so  suddenly  that  he 
overturned  his  chair,  and  sent  Ralph's  new  pet 
scurrying  from  the  room  in  wild  alarm. 

"  Hooray  for  us !"  he  cried,  seizing  Jessie's 
hand.  "  The  Gordons  forever !  Now  we're 
all  right.  I've  felt  certain  all  along  that  the 
agent  would  give  you  a  deed  if  he  could,  but  he 
couldn't  if  you  were  all  under  age.  'Twouldn't 
'a'  been  legal.  But  if  one  of  you  is  of  legal 
age,  the  homestead  business  is  settled." 

"  But  suppose  he  should  refuse  to  give  us  a 


234  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

deed  on  account  of  the  claim's  standing  in 
father's  name?"  Jessie  asked. 

"  In  that  case  the  thing  to  do  is  to  file  on  it 
again,  right  there  and  then,  in  your  own  name — 
strange,  ain't  it,"  he  interjected,  suddenly,  "  that 
the  law  'pears  to  declare  that  a  girl's  as  smart 
at  eighteen  as  a  boy  is  at  twenty-one  ?  Wai',  the 
law  don't  know  everything ;  you  must  go  down 
there  day  after  to-morrow,  prepared  to  enter  the 
claim  again,  though  I  do  hope  it  won't  come  to 
that." 

"  That  will  cost  a  good  deal,  too,  won't  it  ?" 
Jessie  inquired,  dejectedly. 

"  Yes ;  it  will.  I  don't  see  but  you  must  go 
down  with  money  enough  not  only  to  pay  up  the 
final  fees,  but  to  file  on  the  land  again  in  case  of 
the  agent's  refusal." 

"  Will  that  take  more  than  the  fees  would 
amount  to  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Bless  you,  yes  !  I  don't  know  jest  how  much, 
but  a  right  smart.  How  much  have  you  got 
now?" 

It  needed  no  reckoning  to  tell  the  sum  total 


A   VITAL   POINT  235 

of  our  painfully  garnered  hoard.  Mr.  Wilson 
shook  his  head  when  Jessie  named  the  sum  total. 
"  Not  enough  ;  not  enough,  by  half !  And,  as 
the  worst  luck  will  have  it,  I'm  clean  out  of 
money  myself  jest  now.  I  declare,  I  don't  see 
where  my  money  all  goes !  It  don't  'pear  to 
matter  how  much  I  may  have  one  day,  it's  all 
gone  the  next;  beats  all,  it  does!"  He  looked 
at  us  solemnly,  sitting  with  his  lips  pursed  up, 
his  hair  standing  bolt  upright,  and  his  brows 
knit  over  the  problem  of  his  own  financial  short- 
age, yet,  to  one  who  knew  him,  no  problem  was 
of  easier  solution.  Up  and  down  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  valley,  in  miner's  lonely 
cabin,  in  cowboy's  rough  shack,  or  struggling 
rancher's  rude  domicile — wherever  a  helpful 
friend  was  needed,  Mr.  Wilson  was  known  and 
loved,  and,  if  money  was  needed,  all  that  he  had 
was  freely  given.  So  it  was  no  surprise  to  learn 
that  he  was  suffering  from  temporary  financial 
embarrassment  at  a  time  when  he  would  have 
liked,  as  usual,  to  help  a  friend. 

"  Say,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  starting  from 


236  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

his  troubled  reverie;  "in  order  to  make  all 
safe,  you've  got  to  have  money  enough  to  file 
on  that  land  when  you  go  down ;  there's  no '  if 's ' 
nor  'and's'  about  that !  Your  father  would  never 
'a'  hesitated  a  minute  about  borrowing  the  money 
for  such  a  purpose,  if  he  had  it  to  do.  Now,  Jim 
Jackson — over  Archeleuta  way — he's  owing  me 
quite  a  consid'able.  I'll  go  over  there  to-day 
and  see  what  I  can  do  with  him.  He'll  help  us 
out  if  he  can,  but  he's  been  having  sickness  in 
his  family,  and  maybe  he  can't ;  we'll  have  to 
take  our  chances.  I  do'  no's  a  hold-up  is  ever 
justifiable,"  he  continued,  with  a  humorous 
twinkle  in  his  bright  eyes ;  "  but  if  it  is,  this 
would  be  one  of  the  times.  I  hope  we  won't  be 
drove  to  that !" 

He  took  his  departure  shortly  after,  going 
back  home  to  exchange  his  team — to  the  detri- 
ment of  his  own  affairs,  I'm  afraid — for  a  saddle- 
horse,  the  better  to  perform  the  somewhat  haz- 
ardous journey  up  "Archeleuta  way,"  but, 
before  going,  he  enjoined  us,  if  we  had  any 
written  proof  of  Jessie's  coming  of  age  on  the 


A   VITAL    POINT  237 

morrow,  to  look  it  up  and  have  it  in  readiness 
to  offer  in  evidence,  in  case  the  fact  were  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Your  coming  of  age  to-morrow  is  of  so  much 
importance  that  it  seems  almost  too  good  to  be 
true,"  he  said,  earnestly. 

So,  after  he  had  gone,  Jessie  took  the  big 
family  Bible  down  from  the  book  shelf,  and, 
opening  the  book,  turned  to  the  pages  where  the 
Gordon  family  record  had  been  carefully  kept 
for  many  years.  We  knew,  of  course,  that 
there  could  be  no  mistake,  but  it  was  pleasant 
to  see  the  proof  of  our  security  in  indisputable 
black  and  white. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  Mr.  Wilson  will  get  nothing 
out  of  the  Jacksons,"  Jessie  remarked,  as  we 
turned  away  from  a  prolonged  inspection  of  the 
record ;  "  he  has  had  bad  luck,  and  I  heard,  the 
other  day,  that  Ted  had  broken  his  arm." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  be  afraid  about  anything 
now,"  I  declared  valiantly.  "  I'm  sure  we'll 
come  out  all  right.  Mercy  on  us  !  What  was 
that  ?"  I  broke  off,  as  a  chorus  of  mingled  out- 


238  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

cries  came  to  our  ears.  Outside  the  doorway 
there  appeared  to  be,  j  udging  by  the  sound,  a 
lively  commotion,  in  which  cat,  dog,  and  boy 
were  each  bearing  a  part.  We  ran  out  in  alarm 
and  found  Ralph  just  picking  himself  up  off  the 
ground  upon  which  he  seemed  to  have  been 
thrown  with  some  force. 

Ralph,  unnoticed  in  the  interest  of  our  talk 
with  Mr.  Wilson,  had  been  amusing  himself  in 
his  own  way.  His  way  had  been  to  overturn 
the  empty  bushel  basket  and  put  it  over  Guard, 
who  was  lying  by  the  doorstep.  Guard  had 
submitted  to  imprisonment  with  placid  indif- 
ference until  it  came  to  Ralph's  thrusting  the  new 
cat  in  with  him  ;  this  he  instantly  resented,  so,  to 
insure  the  dog's  staying  within,  Ralph  had 
climbed  upon  the  basket.  Whereupon  Guard 
sprang  up,  overturning  both  jail  and  jailor.  The 
liberated  cat  fled  with  all  speed,  and  Guard 
walked  off  in  disgust. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  trying  to  do  ?"  I  de- 
manded. 

Ralph    raised    his    violet    eyes    soberly    to 


A   VITAL    POINT  239 

my  face  as  he  replied :  "  Us  was  havin'  a 
round-up;  now  us  all  'tampeded,"  and  the 
violet  eyes  were  drenched  with  raindrops,  as  the 
little  cattleman  threw  himself  on  the  ground, 
sobbing. 

"  Never  mind,  darling,  your  herd  will  all 
come  home,"  I  said,  consolingly. 

"  Me  don't  want  'em  to  turn  back ;  me's  so 
mad  !"  was  the  uncompromising  reply. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MR.    HOBTON   MAKES   US   A   VISIT 

LATE  that  same  evening  Mr.  Wilson  called 
again.  He  was  on  his  way  home,  and  stopped 
to  tell  us — with  evident  chagrin — that  his  mis- 
sion had  been  a  failure. 

"  You'll  have  to  take  the  trail  in  the  morning, 
Leslie,  and  see  what  you  can  do,"  he  said,  as  he 
went  away. 

The  cows  broke  out  of  the  corral  that  night, 
and  it  took  so  long  to  hunt  them  up,  get  them 
back  into  the  corral,  and  milk  them,  that  it  was 
quite  the  middle  of  the  day  when  I  was  ready 
to  start  out  on  my  unwelcome  business.  Try  as 
I  might  to  convince  myself  to  the  contrary,  the 
effort  to  borrow  money  seemed  to  me,  somehow, 
akin  to  beggary.  In  my  heart  I  had  a  cowardly 
wish  that  Joe  had  been  on  hand  to  take  my 
place,  but  I  kept  all  such  reflections  to  myself. 
I  had  changed  my  print  dress  for  the  worn  old 
240 


MK.    HORTON   MAKES   US    A   VISIT  241 

riding  habit  of  green  serge,  and  was  about  start- 
ing for  the  barn  to  get  Frank,  when  Jessie 
remarked : 

"  While  you  are  hunting  for  a  chance  to 
borrow  money,  I'll  be  earning  some.  If  I  can 
finish  this  work  to-day — it's  Annie  Ellis' 
wrapper— I'll  have  two  dollars  to  add  to  the 
fund.  Why,  Leslie,  I'd  pretty  nearly  sell  the 
dress  off  my  back  to  raise  money  to-day !" 

"  Well,  I  know  I'd  do  that,  with  half  the 
reason  for  it  that  we  have  now.  Dresses  are  a 
bother,  anyway" — my  habit  was  too  short  and 
too  tight,  not  having  kept  pace  with  my  growth 
— "  but,  all  the  same,  I  hate  to  see  you  working 
so  hard.  You've  really  grown  thin  and  pale 
lately,"  I  added. 

"  It  won't  be  for  long ;  I'll  soon  be  through 
with  it  now — "  Jessie  was  beginning,  when  a 
cheerful  voice  from  the  doorway  echoed  her 
words  : 

"  No ;  it  won't  be  for  long !  That's  a  comfort, 
ain't  it  ?" 

We  both  started.     We  had  been  so  engrossed 

16 


242  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

that  we  had  heard  no  one  approaching,  and,  even 
if  we  had,  we  could  scarcely  have  been  less 
startled,  for  the  man  leaning  comfortably  against 
the  door-jamb  was  Jacob  Hortou.  It  had  been 
many  weeks  since  he  had,  to  our  knowledge,  set 
foot  on  our  premises. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Jessie  and  Leslie,"  he 
began  affably.  "  Nice  morning,  ain't  it  ?  I've 
been  living  in  this  valley  going  on  eight  year, 
and  I  don't  recollect  as  ever  I  see  a  nicer 
mornin'  than  this  is." 

He  put  one  foot  upon  the  door  sill — a  sug- 
gestive attitude — but  neither  of  us  invited  him  to 
enter.  He  was  not  easily  daunted,  however. 
The  hand  that  rested  against  the  door-jamb  was 
still  bandaged,  and,  as  I  made  out  with  a  swift 
glance,  a  button  was  still  missing  from  his  coat. 
It  was  the  coat  that  he  had  worn  on  the  night 
that  he  had  ostensibly  salted  the  cattle  in  the  far 
pasture.  From  his  point  of  observation  Mr. 
Horton,  turning  slightly,  threw  an  admiring 
glance  around.  The  glance  seemed  to  include  the 
outer  prospect  as  well  as  the  inner. 


MR.  HORTON    MAKES   US   A    VISIT  243 

"  This  is  a  sightly  place  for  a  house,  aint  it?" 
he  remarked.  "  I  do'no — I  really  do'no  but  I'd 
like  that  knoll  t'other  side  the  river  just  as  well, 
though,  and  it  would  be  nigher  the  spring.  I'll 
speak  to  my  wife  about  it;  if  she  likes  this 
spot  better,  why,  here  our  house  goes  up.  I 
shan't  object.  We  can  move  this  contraption 
that  your  father  built,  back  for  a  hen  house,  or 
a  pig-pen ;  just  as  she  says.  I  always  try  to 
please  my  wife." 

"  When  you  get  ready,  perhaps  you'll  kindly 
tell  us  what  you  are  talking  about,  Mr.  Horton," 
Jessie  said,  rising  from  the  sewing  machine  and 
going  toward  the  door,  whither  I  followed 
her. 

"  Tell  you  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot.  Of  course  you 
girls  can't  be  expected  to  know — young  as  you 
be — that  you  can't  hold  this  claim.  This 
claim  was  open  for  re-entry  the  day  that  your 
father  was  drowned.  I  wasn't  ready  to  take- it 
up  just  then  ;  I  am  ready  now.  Odd,  ain't  it  ? 
I've  been  hearin'  some  talk — my  wife  told  me, 
in  fact — that  you  girls  had  laid  out  to  go  down 


244  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

to  the  land  office  with  your  witnesses  to  offer 
final  proof  to-morrow;  Well,  now — he,  he ! 
That's  a  reg'lar  joke,  for  if  you'll  believe  it,  to- 
morrow's the  day  I've  set  to  go  down  and  file  on 
this  claim,  'count  of  it's  being  vacant !  I  don't 
'spose,  now,  that  you  girls  are  reely  in  earnest 
about  trying  to  keep  the  place  ?  It  would  be  a 
sight  of  trouble  to  you,  even  if  the  law  would 
allow  it,  which  it  won't." 

"  Why  not,  Mr.  Horton  ?"   I  asked. 

"  Why  not?  Wai',  I  don't  know  just  why ; 
I  didn't  make  the  homestead  laws — reasonable 
laws  they  be,  though ;  I  couldn't  V  made  better 
ones  myself — but  I  can  tell  you  two  girls  one 
big,  fundamental  clause,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
Homestead  Act,  under  which  you  don't  come — 
yes,  two  of  'em.  First,  foremost,  and  enough  to 
swamp  your  whole  outfit,  if  there  was  nothing 
else,  you  ain't  neither  of  you  of  age.  Second, 
not  being  of  age,  you  ain't  neither  of  you  the 
head  of  a  family." 

I  looked  at  Mr.  Horton's  bandaged  hand,  and 
a  thrill  of  genuine  delight  went  through  me,  as 


MR.  HORTON    MAKES   US   A    VISIT  245 

I  hastened  to  dispute  one  of  his  fundamental 
clauses. 

"  Jessie  is  the  head  of  a  family,  Mr.  Horton — 
Ralph  and  I  are  her  family." 

"  Maybe  !  Maybe  !  I  'spose,  no  doubt,  you 
regard  yourselves  in  that  light.  No  harm's 
done,  as  long  as  you  keep  it  to  yourselves,  but 
you'll  find  that  the  law  won't  recognize  you  in 
that  way.  The  law's  everlastin'  partic'lar  about 
such  things.  But,  again,  there's  the  matter  of 
your  both  being  under  age  !  Now,  what  a  mis- 
fortune that  is  to  you — s'posing  that  you're  in 
earnest  about  wanting  to  keep  this  place,  but  I 
reckon  you  ain't — if  you  recollect,  you  two,  I've 
always  said  that  I'd  have  this  place.  It  may 
save  you  some  trouble  and  expense,  if  I  say  right 
here  and  now,  that  I  mean  to  have  it !  I  mean 
to  have  it !  Don't  forget  that !  But  I  ain't  a 
hard  man — not  at  all — and  I'm  willing  to  make 
it  as  easy  as  I  can  for  you.  Why,  I  could  'a' 
filed  on  this  any  time  since  your  pa  died,  but  I 
didn't,  and  why  not  ?" 

"If    you   ask   me,"    I   said,   speaking   very 


246  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

quietly,  though  I  was  trembling  with  indigna- 
tion, "  I  suppose  you  didn't  file  on  it  because 
you  thought  it  would  be  better  to  let  us  get  a 
crop  in  before  you  did  it ;  then  you  could  steal 
the  crop  along  with  the  place." 

"  Leslie !"  Jessie  exclaimed,  aghast. 

But  Mr.  Horton's  thin  lips  parted  in  a  wolfish 
smile.  "  Oh — ho !  you're  up  on  the  homestead 
laws  to  some  extent,  I  see.  Crops  do  go  with 
the  land  when  the  claimant  forfeits  his  right  to 
the  land  that  bears  them.  Your  father,  he  for- 
feited his  right  by  getting  drownded,  and  no  one 
has  entered  the  claim  since,  so  I'm  about  to 
enter  it.  As  I  said  before  I  ain't  a  hard  man, 
and  I'm  willing  to  make  it  as  easy  as  I  can  for 
you,  so  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  pay  a  fail- 
price  for  such  improvements  as  your  father  made. 
They  don't  amount  to  much — " 

"  But  if  you  should  decide  to  commute  the 
claim,  instead  of  waiting  five  years  to  prove  up, 
it  would  be  worth  a  good  deal  to  you  to  be  able 
to  swear  that  such  and  such  things  had  stood  on 
the  place  so  long,  which  you  could  not  do  if  we 


MR.  HORTON    MAKES    US    A   VISIT  247 

took  our  improvements  away;  for  we  have  a 
right  to  remove  whatever  we  have  built,  if  we 
do  not  keep  the  claim." 

Mr.  Horton's  narrow  eyes  rested  on  me  with 
anything  but  a  friendly  expression.  "  You're 
posted  quite  a  consid'able ;  ain't  you,  Miss 
Smarty?  Pity  you  didn't  know  jest  a  little 
mite  more.  Well ;  we  won't  quarrel  over  a 
little  thing  like  that.  I'll  pay  for  the  improve- 
ments, and  you'll  jest  leave  'em  where  they  are. 
This  house,  now,  I'll  take  a  look  at  it ;  it  don't 
amount  to  much,  that's  so,  but  such  as  'tis,  I'll 
look  at  it." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  do  so,"  Jessie  assured 
him. 

I  think  it  came  into  her  mind,  as  it  certainly 
did  into  mine,  that  he  wished  to  ascertain  if  the 
house  were  not  lacking  in  some  one  or  more  of 
the  essential  equipments  of  a  homesteader's 
claim.  If  he  should  discover  such  a  lack  his  task 
would  be  all  the  easier.  I  ran  over  a  hasty,  fur- 
tive inventory  on  my  fingers  :  "  Cat,  clock,  table, 
chairs,  stove — " 


248  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

The  cat  was  lying  comfortably  outstretched 
on  the  window  ledge,  her  head  resting  on  the 
open  pages  of  the  Bible,  that  we  had  both  neg- 
lected to  replace.  The  clock  ticked  loudly  from 
its  place  on  the  mantlepiece ;  there  was  a  fire  in 
the  stove,  and,  absorbed  in  staring,  Mr.  Horton 
stumbled  over  one  of  the  chairs.  The  result  of 
his  inspection  did  not  please  him ;  he  scowled 
at  the  cat,  who  resented  his  glance  by  springing 
from  the  window  and  hissing  spitefully  at  his 
legs  as  she  passed  him  on  her  way  out.  Her 
sudden  spring  drew  our  visitor's  attention  to  the 
book  on  which  her  head  had  been  resting;  the 
written  pages  attracted  his  notice. 

"  What's  that  ?"  he  demanded,  going  nearer, 
the  better  to  examine  them. 

"  That  is  our  family  Bible,"  Jessie  replied, 
laying  her  hand  upon  it  reverently.  "  This  " — 
she  looked  up  at  him  with  a  kind  of  still,  pale 
defiance — "  this  is  the  Gordon  family  record !  It 
has  been  kept  in  these  pages  since  the  days  of 
our  great-great-grandfather,  and  " — she  turned 
the  book  so  that  Mr.  Morton's  eyes  rested  on  the 


MR.  HORTON    MAKES    US    A    VISIT  249 

entry — it  may  interest  you  to  know  that  I  am 
eighteen,  of  legal  age,  to-day." 

Mr.  Horton's  jaw  dropped,  and  for  a  speech- 
less instant  he  looked  the  picture  of  blank 
amazement,  then  he  rallied. 

"Records  can  lie,"  he  declared,  brutally. 
"  You  don't  look  eighteen,  Jessie  Gordon,  and 
I  don't  believe  you  are.  It's  a  likely  story,  ain't 
it  now,  that  you  should  happen  to  be  of  age  on 
the  very  day,  almost,  that  it's  a  matter  of  life  or 
death,  as  one  might  say,  that  you  should  be ! 
No,  that's  too  thin;  it  won't  wash.  You've 
made  a  little  mistake  in  your  entry,  that's  all. 
One  of  them  convenient  mistakes  that  folks  are 
apt  to  make  when  it's  to  their  interest  to  do  so." 

"As  there  is  no  man  here  to  kick  you  out  of 
the  house,  I  suppose  you  feel  at  liberty  to  say 
whatever  comes  into  your  wicked  head,  and  we 
must  bear  it !"  Jessie  said,  her  voice  shaken  with 
anger. 

In  spite  of  himself,  Mr.  Horton  winced  at 
that.  "  I  ain't  one  to  take  advantage  of  your 
being  helpless,"  he  declared,  virtuously.  "You've 


250  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

no  call  to  hint  as  much.  But  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  you  don't  look  a  day  over  sixteen, 
if  you  do  that,  and  you  couldn't  make  nobody — 
no  land  agent — believe  that  you  are  of  age,  if 
you  didn't  have  that  record  to  swear  by." 

"  As  we  do  have  it,  it  will  probably  answer 
our  purpose." 

"  Oh,  well ;  maybe  'twill ;  maybe  'twill !"  his 
glance  ranged  up  and  down  the  window,  where 
lay  the  book  with  its  irrefutable  evidence. 
Then  his  eyes  fell,  and  his  tones  changed  to 
blandness  once  more.  "  I  must  be  going,"  he 
announced,  edging  toward  the  door;  "  I  was 
passing  along,  and  an  idee  popped  into  my  head. 
You've  been  to  some  expense  in  helping  to  find 
your  pa's  body — though  why  you  should  'a' 
been  so  set  on  finding  it,  nobody  knows  ;  folks 
is  so  cur'ous,  that  way !  If  it  had  been  my  case, 
I  reckon  my  folks  would  'a'  had  sense  enough 
to  leave  me  where  I  was — " 

"  I  am  sure  they  would — gladly !"  I  inter- 
posed, quickly. 

Mr.  Horton  shot  an  evil  glance  in  my  direc- 


MR.  HORTON    MAKES   US   A    VISIT  251 

tion,  and  went  on  :  "  Well,  you've  been  to  some 
expense,  and  the  mines  have  shut  down  so's't 
that  old  crackerjack  of  a  nigger  that  hangs 
'round  your  place  is  out  of  work.  I'm  going  to 
pre-empt  this  place — none  o'  your  slack-twisted 
homestead  rights  for  me — and  I  thought  it 
would  be  neighborly  if  I  was  to  step  in  and  tell 
you,  Jess,  that  my  wife's  wanting  a  hired  girl. 
She  was  speaking  of  it  last  night,  and  the 
thought  came  into  my  head  right  off,  though  I 
didn't  mention  it  to  her,  that  you  was  going  to 
need  a  home,  and  there  was  your  chance.  Being 
so  young  and  inexperienced — for  you  don't  look 
eighteen,  no — I  reckon  you'd  be  willing  to 
work  without  any  more  wages  than  jest  your 
board  and  lodging  until  you  had  kind  o'  got 
trained  into  doing  things  our  way." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  I  should  never  earn  any 
wages  at  anything — not  if  I  were  to  live  a  thou- 
sand years,  if  I  had  to  be  trained  to  do  things 
your  way  first !"  Jessie  told  him,  with  flashing 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right ;  you'll  get  over  some 


252  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

of  your  high  notions  when  you  get  to  be  a 
hired  girl.  You'll  prob'ly  acquire  the  orna- 
ment of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  same's  the 
Bible  speaks  of,  and  it's  one  that  you  ain't 
got  at  present.  As  for  you  " — he  turned  on  me 
savagely,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  held  me  in 
even  less  esteem  than  he  did  my  sister — "  you 
can  get  out,  and  that  brat  " — he  glared  at  Ralph, 
who  had  drawn  near,  and  was  regarding  him 
with  a  kind  of  solemn,  impersonal  interest — 
"you  can  get  shet  of  him  easy  enough — you 
can  send  him  to  the  poor-house." 


CHAPTER  XX 

GUAED    MAKES   A    MISTAKE 

MR.  HORTOX  was  returning  to  the  charge 
when  I  eagerly  caught  at  an  opportunity  that 
now  presented  itself,  of  speeding  his  departure. 
He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  open  door, 
and  had  not  observed,  as  we  did,  that  his  horse 
— contrary  to  the  usual  habit  of  mountain 
ponies — was  not  standing  patiently  where  his 
master  had  left  him. 

Weary  of  waiting,  he  was  walking  away  along 
the  homeward  road  as  rapidly  as  the  dangling 
bridle  reins  would  allow. 

"  Mr.  Horton,"  I  said,  "  your  horse  is  leav- 
ing." A  wicked  impulse  forced  me  to  add  :  "  I 
am  sure  you  would  hate  to  lose  your  horse  here 
— as  you  did  a  coat  button,  one  night  not  so  long 
ago." 

It  was  a  reckless  speech  to  make,  as  I  felt 
when  I  looked  at  him.  His  face  turned  of  a 

253 


254  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

livid  pallor ;  lie  looked  murderous  as  he  stood 
in  his  tracks,  glaring  at  me.  He  was,  I  am 
certain,  afraid  to  trust  himself  to  speak,  or  to 
remain  near  me.  He  bounded  out  of  the  house 
shouting  "  Whoa !  Whoa !"  as  he  ran.  Guard 
was  dozing  by  the  doorstep.  Mr.  Horton's 
action  and  call  were  so  sudden  that  he  sprang  up, 
wide  awake,  looking  eagerly  around,  under  the 
impression  that  his  services  were  in  requisition. 
Though  nearly  full  grown  he  was  still  a  puppy, 
with  many  things  to  learn.  The  horse,  also 
startled  by  Mr.  Horton's  outcry,  raised  his  head, 
turning  it  from  side  to  side  as  he  looked  back  in 
search  of  the  creature  that  had  made  such  a 
direful  noise.  He  quickened  his  pace  into  a 
trot,  checked  painfully  whenever  he  stepped  on 
the  trailing  bridle. 

An  older  and  wiser  dog  than  Guard,  seeing 
the  saddle  and  the  trailing  bridle,  would  have 
known  better  than  to  attempt  to  practice  his 
"  heeling  "  accomplishments  on  the  animal  that 
wore  them.  But  Guard,  eager  to  air  his  lately- 
acquired  knowledge,  stopped  for  no  such  con- 


GUARD    MAKES    A    MISTAKE  255 

siderations.  Passing  Mr.  Horton,  who  was  run- 
ning after  the  horse,  like  a  flash,  he  made  a  bee- 
line  for  that  gentleman's  mount.  Reaching  the 
animal,  he  crouched  and  bit  one  of  his  heels 
sharply.  As  the  horse  bounded  away,  he  fol- 
lowed, nipping  the  flying  heels  and  yelping 
with  excitement.  Mr.  Horton  toiled  along  in 
their  rear  and  I  ran  after  him — not  actuated  by 
any  strong  desire  to  come  to  his  assistance,  but 
in  fear  of  what  might  happen  should  he  succeed 
in  laying  hands  on  Guard.  The  very  set  of  his 
vanishing  shoulders  told  me  that  he  was  purple 
with  rage  and  fatigue,  and  I  had  good  cause  to 
fear  for  the  safety  of  the  dog,  to  whom  I  called 
and  whistled,  imploringly.  After  a  chase  of 
about  half  a  mile,  Guard,  making  a  wide  detour 
around  Mr.  Horton,  came  slinking  back  to  me. 
He  was  evidently  troubled  with  misgivings  as 
to  the  propriety  of  his  conduct,  and  crouched  in 
the  dust  at  my  feet,  looking  up  at  me  with  beau- 
tiful beseeching  eyes.  "You  did  very,  very 
wrong !"  I  admonished  him,  earnestly.  "  You 
are  never — ne-ver — to  heel  a  horse  that 


256  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

has  a  saddle  or  bridle  on.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?" 

Guard  hung  his  head  dejectedly,  his  bright 
eyes  seeming  to  say  that  he  understood,  and 
would  profit  by  the  lesson. 

Returning  to  the  house  I  went  in  again  instead 
of  mounting  the  waiting  horse  and  getting  about 
my  delayed  errand. 

"Did  Mr.  Horton  catch  his  horse?"  Jessie 
inquired. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  hope  not,  I'm  sure.  I  think 
a  five-mile  walk  will  do  him  good.  He'll  have 
time  to  cool  off  a  little." 

"  He  thinks  that  we  have  made  a  false  entry 
here,"  Jessie  went  on,  resentfully,  approaching 
the  window  ledge  and  turning  the  leaves  of  the 
record.  "  Why,"  she  continued,  "  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  that  even  a  hardened  criminal  would 
dare  to  do  a  thing  like  that !  And  I'm  not  a 
hardened  criminal — yet.  I  am  not  sure  but  that 
I  might  become  one  if  I  am  obliged  to  see  much 
of  Mr.  Horton,  though !"  She  closed  the  book 
and,  stepping  up  on  a  chair,  laid  it  on  the  shelf 


GUARD    MAKES    A    MISTAKE  257 

where  our  few  books  were  kept.  When  she 
stepped  down  again  she  had  another  book  in  her 
arms.  It  was  a  large,  square,  leather-bound 
volume,  almost  identical  in  appearance  with  the 
one  that  she  had  just  laid  away. 

"  What  are  you  looking  in  the  dictionary 
for  ?"  I  asked,  as  she  laid  the  book  on  the 
broad  window  ledge  that  made  such  a  conve- 
nient reading-desk. 

"  I  want  to  know  exactly  what  '  fundamental ' 
means,"  she  replied.  "  I  know  pretty  well,  or 
I  think  I  do,  but  I  want  to  know  exactly." 

Finding  the  word,  she  presently  read  aloud  : 

"Fundamental — pertaining  to  the  foundation; 
hence,  essential,  elementary ;  a  leading  or  pri- 
mary principle  ;  an  essential.' " 

"  Well,  that's  plain  enough,"  she  said,  closing 
the  book ;  "  but  I  think  we  have  looked  out  for 
fundamental  clauses  pretty  faithfully.  I  wish 
that  Joe  was  at  home ;  we  must  get  an  early 
start  to-morrow.  It  is  foolish  to  feel  so,  when 
we  know  just  how  matters  stand  ;  but,  somehow, 
Mr.  Horton's  threats  have  made  me  uneasy." 

17 


258  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"  No  wonder !  The  very  sight  of  him  is 
enough  to  make  one  shudder.  But  I  don't  see 
that  there  is  anything  that  we  can  do,  more 
than  we  are  doing,  Jessie." 

"  You  might  ride  over,  since  you  are  going 
out  anyway,  and  tell  Mr.  Wilson  what  Mr. 
Horton  has  been  saying.  If  you  call  on  Mr. 
Drummond,  who  is  our  main  hope  for  raising 
the  money,  you'll  pass  Wilson's,  anyway." 

"  Oh,  yes !  I'll  see  him,  sure ;  and  now  I 
must  be  going." 

I  went  out  accordingly,  observing  in  an  absent 
way,  as  I  left  the  room,  that,  since  no  funda- 
mental clause  required  Jessie  to  replace  the 
dictionary  on  its  shelf,  it  was  still  lying  on  the 
window-ledge. 

I  rode  immediately  over  to  Mr.  Wilson's,  and 
was  fortunate  in  finding  him  at  home.  He 
promised  to  "  turn  the  thing  over  in  his  mind," 
and,  if  there  seemed  to  him,  as  a  result  of  this 
process,  anything,  any  new  move,  called  for  on 
our  part,  to  ride  over  during  the  day  and  let  us 
know. 


GUARD   MAKES    A    MISTAKE  259 

Then  I  went  on  to  the  two  or  three  places  that 
we  had  in  mind  as  most  promising,  if  one  de- 
sired to  raise  money,  and  failed  distinctly,  in 
every  case.  It  was,  as  one  of  the  ranchmen 
feelingly  explained,  "  a  dry  time ;  between  hay 
and  grass.  Too  late  for  the  spring  round-up 
and  too  early  for  the  fall  harvest."  Every  one 
was,  accordingly,  lacking  in  ready  cash. 

I  returned  home,  not  greatly  dejected  by  my 
failure,  since,  thanks  to  Mr.  Wilson,  I  had  so 
well  understood  the  existing  conditions  before 
starting  out  that  I  would  have  been  surprised 
if  I  had  succeeded. 

Joe  being  still  absent,  I  was  obliged  to  care 
for  Frank  myself.  When,  in  the  dusky  twi- 
light, I  at  length  entered  the  house,  it  was  to 
find  little  Ralph  already  fast  asleep  and  Jessie 
about  starting  for  the  corral  with  the  milk 
pail. 

"Haven't  you  got  the  milking  done  yet, 
Jessie?" 

"  No ;  I  waited  for  Ralph  to  get  to  sleep  and 
for  you  to  come.  Did  you  get  any  money  ?" 


260  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

"No." 

Jessie  sighed.  "  I  don't  know,  after  all,  that 
I  much  expected  that  you  would.  "Well,  if  you 
can  wait  a  little  for  your  supper,  come  out  to  the 
corral  and  let  me  tell  you  what  Mr.  Wilson  has 
been  saying." 

"  Has  he  been  here  again  ?" 

"Yes;  he  just  left  a  few  minutes  before  you 
came." 

We  went  on  out  to  the  corral  where  the  cows 
were  waiting  to  be  milked.  Guard  following 
after  us  with  as  much  sedateness  and  dignity  as 
if  he  had  never  contemplated,  much  less  com- 
mitted, a  foolish  act  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A   FRIEND   IN   NEED 

JESSIE  seated  herself  on  the  milking-stool  by 
old  Cleo's  side,  while  I  leaned  against  the  corral 
bars,  watching  her. 

"  You're  tired,  aren't  you,  Leslie  ?"  she  asked, 
glancing  up  at  me,  as  under  her  nimble  fingers, 
the  streams  of  milk  began  to  rattle  noisily  into 
the  pail. 

"  Yes ;  I  am,  rather.  I  think  I'm  some  disap- 
pointed too,  maybe.  What  did  Mr.  Wilson  say  ?" 

"  He  said  that  my  best  plan — for  it  must  go 
in  my  name,  now — is  to  get  to  town  to-morrow 
before  Mr.  Horton  does,  explain  to  the  agent 
about  father's  death — he  must  have  heard  of  it, 
Mr.  Wilson  says,  but  he  is  not  obliged  to  take 
official  note  of  a  thing  that  has  not  been  re- 
ported to  him,  and  that  he  has  only  heard  of 
incidentally — and  ask  him  to  make  out  the  deed 
to  me,  as  the  present  head  of  the  family.  Mr. 

261 


262  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Wilson  says  that  I  must  be  there,  ready  to  tell 
my  story,  the  minute  the  office  opens.  He 
hopes  that,  in  that  way,  we  may  frustrate  Mr. 
Horton,  who  is  likely,  he  says,  to  be  one  of  the 
very  first  on  hand  to-morrow  morning.  After  I 
have  explained  matters  to  the  agent,  he  will  be 
forced  to  wait  the  arrival  of  my  witnesses,  of 
course,  before  he  can  do  anything.  But  Mr. 
Wilson  thinks  that  anything  that  Mr.  Horton 
may  say,  after  the  agent  has  seen  me,  and  heard 
my  story,  will  be  likely  to  work  in  my  favor,  it 
will  show  so  plainly  what  Mr.  Horton  is  up  to. 
Mr.  Wilson  says  that  I  had  better  take  a  horse 
and  start  for  town  to-morrow,  just  as  soon  as  it 
is  light  enough  to  see." 

"  Twenty  miles  !"  I  said.  "  How  long  will 
it  take  you  to  ride  it  ?"  I  knew  how  long  it 
would  take  me,  on  Frank's  back,  but  Jessi^.  is 
less  wonted  to  the  saddle  than  I. 

"  It  will  take  me  nearly  four  hours,  I  should 
think,  shouldn't  you  ?"  She  stopped  milking 
while  she  looked  at  me,  anxiously  awaiting  my 
reply. 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED  263 

"  Just  about  that,  Jessie." 

"  It  would  kill  me  to  keep  up  such  a  gait  as 
you  and  Frank  seem  to  both  take  delight  in," 
she  continued.  "  So  I  must  be  poking  along 
for  four  hours  doing  the  distance  that  you  could 
cover  in  t\vo.  The  Land  Office  opens  at  seven 
o'clock — there's  a  rush  of  business  just  now,  Mr. 
Wilson  says — and  I  must  start  not  later  than 
half-past  two." 

"  Dear  me,  Jessie,  I  hate  to  have  you  start  out 
alone  in  the  night,  that  way !" 

"  I  don't  like  it  very  well  myself,"  Jessie  ad- 
mitted. "  But  Mr.  Wilson  thought  we'd  better 
not  say  a  word  to  any  one  about  my  going — lest 
it  should  get  to  Mr.  Horton's  ears  some  way,  and 
he  will  drive  around  later  in  the  morning  and 
pick  up  the  witnesses  and  bring  them  down. 
Oli^nd  Leslie,  above  all  things,  don't  forget 
the  Bible.  Be  sure  to  put  that  in  the  wagon 
when  Mr.  Wilson  comes." 

"  Certainly  I  shall !  Do  you  imagine  that  I 
would  forget  the  one  'fundamental  clause'  of 
our  proving  up  ?" 


264  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  No,  of  course  you  wouldn't.  Mr.  Wilson 
said  that  he  would  go  down  with  me — we  could 
drive  his  fast  horse  down  in  the  light  cart,  if 
only  Joe  were  here  to  bring  down  our  witnesses. 
But  he  isn't,  and  I  must  go  alone." 

It  was  evident  that  Jessie  did  not  relish  the 
prospect  of  taking  a  lonely  night  ride. 

"  I  will  leave  the  money — what  little  there  is 
of  it — for  Mr.  Wilson  to  bring  down,"  Jessie 
presently  remarked.  "  Then,  if  I  am  held  up, 
we  will  have  saved  that  much,  anyhow." 

"  And  much  good  it  will  do  us,  with  our  Fun- 
damental Clause  in  the  hands  of  brigands,"  I  re- 
torted laughingly.  For,  indeed,  there  was  about 
as  much  danger  of  a  hold-up  as  of  an  earth- 
quake. 

"  What  a  fuss  you  are  making,  Guard — what's 
the  matter?"  Jesse  said,  in  a  tone  of  remon- 
strance, as  she  resumed  the  milking.  The  dog 
had  been  looking  toward  the  house,  growling 
and  bristling,  for  some  minutes.  His  response 
to  Jessie's  remonstrance  was  a  tumultuous  rush 
toward  the  house,  around  the  corner  of  which 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED  265 

he  disappeared.  Presently  we  saw  him  bound- 
ing away  into  the  oak  scrub  beyond,  apparently 
in  hot  pursuit  of  some  retreating  object,  for  his 
voice,  breaking  out  occasionally  in  angry  clamor, 
soon  died  away  in  the  distance. 

"  I  hope  there  isn't  another  wildcat  after  the 
chickens,"  Jessie  remarked,  as,  the  milking 
finished,  we  started  toward  the  house. 

"I  don't  think  it's  a  wildcat,"  I  said;  "from 
all  the  legends  we  have  heard  lately,  a  wildcat 
would  have  stood  its  ground  :  more  likely  it  was 
a  polecat." 

Entering  the  house  that  we  had  left  vacant, 
save  for  the  sleeping  child  in  the  bedroom,  we 
were  startled  at  sight  of  a  dusky,  silent  figure, 
sitting  motionless  before  the  fire — for,  in  the 
mountain  country,  a  blaze  is  always  welcome 
after  nightfall,  even  in  midsummer.  At  the 
sound  of  our  approaching  footsteps  the  figure 
turned  toward  us  a  head  crowned  with  white 
wool,  and  smiled  benignly. 

"  Joe  !"  we  both  cried,  in  a  breath. 

"  Joe  I  is !"  returned  the  old  man,  placidly. 


266  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS   ' 

stretching  his  gnarled  hands  toward  the  blaze, 
and  grinning  delightedly ;  "  I  reckon  yon  all 
begin  fur  to  projec'  '  Whar's  Joe  ?'  long  'bout 
dish  yer  time  o'  day,  so  I  done  p'inted  my  tracks 
in  dish  yer  way." 

"  It  must  have  been  you  that  Guard  was 
barking  at,"  I  said,  stirring  the  fire  into  a 
brighter  blaze. 

"  No ;  hit  wa'nt  me.  I  yeard  his  racketiu'  as 
I  come  up  along.  Hit  war'  some  udder  varmint, 
I  reckons.  What  fur  he  want  ter  bark  at  me  ?" 

"  True  enough.  Well,  we're  just  awful  glad 
you've  come  back,  Joe,"  Jessie  told  him.  "  Leslie 
has  been  out  all  the  afternoon  and  she  hasn't  had 
her  supper.  I  waited  for  her  before  eating  mine, 
so  now  I'll  fix  yours  on  this  little  table  beside 
the  fire  and  we  can  all  eat  at  the  same  time." 

Joe  accepted  the  proposition  thankfully,  and, 
after  seeing  him  comfortably  established,  we 
seated  ourselves  at  the  large  table  near  the  win- 
dow. I  was  hungry  after  my  long  ride  and  fell 
to  with  a  will,  but  I  presently  observed  that 
Jessie  ate  nothing. 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED  267 

"  Why  don't  you  eat  your  supper,  Jessie?" 

"  I  can't,"  she  replied,  pushing  away  her 
plate ;  "  I'm  so  worried.  Leslie,  have  you  thought 
that  if  the  agent  refuses  to  issue  a  deed  to  us  we 
shall  have  no  home?  I  feel  just  sure  of  it,  for 
we  haven't  money  enough  to  re-enter  the  claim, 
hire  a  surveyor,  and  all  that." 

"  Must  there  be  a  new  survey  made  ?" 

"  So  Mr.  Wilson  says ;  he  says  that  it  will  be 
the  same,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  as  if  no  entry 
had  ever  been  made." 

"The  eye  of  the  law  must  be  half  blind, 
then !"  I  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  As  if  the 
survey  already  made  and  paid  for,  was  not  good 
enough,  and  when  we  know  that  a  new  one 
would  only  follow  the  same  lines !" 

"  That's  just  what  I  said  to  Mr.  Wilson.  He 
said  that  surveyors  had  to  have  a  chance  to  earn 
their  living,  and  this  way  of  doing  business  was 
one  of  the  chances,"  Jessie  replied,  dropping 
her  head  dejectedly  on  her  hand. 

"  Well ;  don't  let's  worry  about  it,  Jessie  dear, 
we  must  keep  on  hoping,  as  father  used  to  say. 


268  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

He  used  to  say,  you  know,  that  no  one  was  ever 
really  poor  until  lie  had  ceased  to  hope.  We 
will  do  our  best  and  God  will  look  out  for  the 
rest,  I  guess.  I  don't  believe  He  intends  to  let 
our  home  be  taken  from  us.  He  wouldn't  have 
given  us  such  good  men  for  witnesses  if  He 
had." 

"  Yes,  they  are  good.  If  we  were  only  able 
to  borrow  a  little  more  money  now  I  should  feel 
quite  safe.  If  we  could  just  borrow  money 
enough  to — " 

"  Woe  unto  him  that  goeth  up  an'  down  de 
Ian'  seeking  fur  t'  borrow  money  !  Borrowed 
money,  hit  stingeth  like  an  adder ;  hit  biteth 
like  a  surpunt !  Hit  weaves  a  chain  what  bin's 
hit's  victims  han'  an'  foot!  Hit  maketh  a 
weight  what  breaks  his  heart,  amen  !" 

In  the  interest  of  our  conversation  we  had, 
for  the  nonce,  forgotten  Joe,  who  was  quietly 
toasting  his  ragged  shoes  before  the  fire,  until 
his  voice  thus  solemnly  proclaimed  his  presence. 

"  Dat's  w'at  ole  Mas'r  Gordon,  yo'  chillen's 
gran'fadder,  used  fur  t'  say,  an'  hit's  true.  Hit's 


A    FRIEND    IN    NEED  269 

true  !  He  knowed ;  Good  Heaven,  didn't  he 
know !" 

There  was  the  tragedy  of  some  remembered 
bitter  suffering  in  the  old  man's  voice,  and,  re- 
calling father's  stern  determination  to  endure  all 
things,  to  lose  all  things,  if  need  be,  rather  than 
to  become  a  borrower,  I  felt  that  the  misery 
hinted  at  in  old  Joe's  words  had  been  something 
very  real  and  poignant  in  the  days  of  those 
Gordons,  now  beyond  all  suffering. 

"  Hit  may  be,"  continued  the  old  man  re- 
flectively, "  dat  I  ain'  got  all  dem  verses 
jess  right,  but  dat  was  deir  senses.  Wat 
s'prises  me,  Miss  Jessie,  is  dat  yo'  alls  is 
talkin'  ob  wantin'  fur  to  borrow  money,  too. 
Wat  fur  yo'  wan'  ter  borry  money,  w'en  de're's 
a  plenty  in  de  fambly  ?  A  plenty  ob  hit,  yes. 
Wat  yo'  reckons  I's  been  doin'  all  dese  yer 
weeks,  off  an  on  ?  T'inks  I's  a  'possum,  an' 
doan  know  w'en  hit's  time  ter  come  t'  life  ? 
Ain'  I  been  a  knowin'  'bout  dish  yer  Ian'  busi- 
ness an'  a  gittin'  ready  fur  hit,  ebber  sense  long 
'fore  Mas'r  Ralph  was  took.  I  didn't  git 


270  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

drownded  w'en  he  did — wish't  I  had,  I  does — 
an'  long  'fore  dat,  I'se  been  sabin'  up  my  wages 
agin  a  time  w'en  Mas'r  Ralph  goin'  need  'em 
wustest.  I  reckoned  he  goin'  need  'em  w'en  hit 
comes  to  de  provin'  up  on  dish  yer  claim.  Hit 
doan  tek'  much  ter  keep  a  ole  nigger  like  me,  an' 
I  ain'  been  crippled  wid  de  rheumatiz  so  bad 
until  'long  dis  summah,  an'  so,  chillen,  I'se  done 
got  five  hundred  dollahs  in  de  bank  at  Fa'play, 
fo'  de  credit  ob  Mas'r  Ralph  Gordon — dat's  yo's 
now,  Miss  Jessie,  honey,  cause  yo's  ob  age." 

Joe  had  remembered  that  important  fact,  too, 
it  seemed.  We  could  only  stare  at  him  in 
speechless  amazement,  while  he  concluded,  ab- 
ruptly :  "  So  do'an  let's  heah  no  more  fool  talk 
'bout  borrowin'  money.  We's  got  a  plenty,  I 
tells  yo'.  I  been  a-keepin'  hit  in  de  bank  at 
Arnold — whar'  Mas'r  Ralph  an'  me  stopped  fur 
quite  a  spell  'afore  we  done  come  yer — an'  so,  a 
few  days  ago,  I  done  slipped  ober  to  Arnold  an' 
drawed  de  money  out,  an'  put  it  in  de  bank  at 
Fa'hplay,  subject  to  de  order  ob  Miss  Jessie 
Gordon — dat's  yo',  honey,"  he  added,  as  if  fear- 


A    FEIEND   IN   NEED  271 

fill  that  Jessie  might  not  recognize  herself  under 
this  formal  appellation.  He  was  holding  his 
coffee-cup  suspended,  half-way  to  his  lips,  while 
he  looked  at  us  exultantly,  and  then  we  both 
expressed  our  feelings  in  a  characteristic  manner. 
I  ran  to  him,  and  threw  my  arms  around  his  neck. 

"  Oh,  Joe !  Joe !  you  are  an  angel !"  I 
sobbed,  dropping  my  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Maybe  I  is,"  the  old  man  admitted,  stiffly, 
edging  away ;  "  but  if  dere's  airy  angel,  w'ite 
or  black,  w'at  likes  ter  hab  hot  coffee  spilled 
obber  his  laigs,  I  ain'  nebber  met  up  wid  him  !" 

"  I'll  get  you  another  cup,  Joe,"  I  said,  laugh- 
ing, as  I  brushed  away  my  tears.  While  I  was 
getting  it,  Jessie  clung  to  his  rough  old  hand. 

"  God  bless  you,  Joe !  Oh,  you  have  lifted 
such  a  weight  from  my  heart !  I  don't  know  how 
to  thank  you  ;  but  Joe,  we'll  pay  it  all  back  to 
you !  We  will,  if  it  takes  the  place  to  do  it !" 

Joe,  freeing  his  hand  from  her  clasp,  rose  to 
his  feet — not  stiffly,  this  time,  but  with  a  certain 
grave  dignity.  Motioning  aside  the  coffee  that 
I  was  bringing,  he  picked  his  ragged  old  hat  up 


272  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

from  the  floor  beside  his  chair,  put  it  on,  pulled 
it  down  over  his  eyes,  and  started  for  the  door. 

"  'Fore  Heaben  !  I  wouldn't  'a'  beliebed  dat 
one  ob  Mars'r  Ralph  Gordon's  chillen  gwine 
fur  insult  me  like  dis  !"  he  muttered,  huskily  ; 
"  Talk  ob  payin'  me !  Me,  like  I  was  a  stranger, 
an'  didn'  belong  to  de  fambly !" 

"  Wait !"  cried  Jessie,  springing  forward,  as 
the  old  man  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  the  door 
knob.  "Wait,  sit  down,  Joe,  dear  Joe,  don't 
desert  us  when  we  need  you  most !  As  for  the 
mouey,  God  bless  you  for  making  sure  of  our 
home,  for,  of  course,  it's  your  home,  too,  always, 
always !  And  I'll  never  pay  a  cent  of  the  money 
back ;  not  if  I  use  it  all  I" 

"  Yo's  gwine  hab  to  use  hit  all,  honey,"  Joe 
returned,  with  a  beaming  face,  as  he  resumed 
his  seat.  "  Dere's  de  fence  buildin'  an'  breakiii' 
de  new  groun',  and  de  seedin'." 

"True  enough!  Oh,  we  shall  come  out  all 
right,  now,  thanks  to  you,  Joe." 

And  Jessie  spoke  with  the  happy  little  laugh 
that  we  had  not  heard  for  a  long,  long  time. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN    OPEN   WINDOW 

IT  was,  apart  from  the  pecuniary  relief  that 
his  coming  had  brought  us,  a  great  satisfaction 
to  have  old  Joe  again  with  us.  Remembering 
his  habit  of  not  speaking  until  he  was,  as  he 
sometimes  expressed  it,  "  plumb  ready,"  we  for- 
bore to  ask  any  more  questions  until  he  had 
finished  his  supper,  and  smoked  his  pipe  after- 
ward. Smoking  is  a  bad  habit,  I  know,  but 
I  am  afraid  that  there  are  few  good  habits 
from  which  people  derive  more  comfort  than  fell 
to  Joe  when  he  was  puffing  contentedly  away  at 
his  old  clay  pipe.  After  a  long  interval  of 
blissful  enjoyment  he  knocked  the  ashes  out 
of  his  pipe,  pocketed  it,  and  then  remarked, 
rather  wistfully,  apparently  to  the  fire  as 
much  as  to  either  of  us :  "I  reckons  he's  fas' 
asleep,  shore'  miff!"  "He"  meant  Ralph,  of 
course. 

is  273 


274  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

"  Yes,"  Jessie  said,  "  he's  been  asleep  ever 
since  a  little  while  before  dark." 

"  Yo'  reckons  hit  gwine  fur  'sturb  him,  jess 
fur  me  ter  tek'  a  look  at  him,  honey  ?" 

"  Surely  not,  Joe."  Accordingly  I  took  up  a 
lamp,  and  stepped  with  it  into  the  next  room — 
the  sitting-room,  in  which  Ralph's  crib  was 
stationed.  The  crib  stood  close  to  the  window, 
which  was  open.  I  was  surprised  that  Jessie  had 
left  it  so,  knowing,  as  she  did,  that  Ralph  caught 
cold  with  painful  facility.  Joe  cast  a  disap- 
proving look  at  the  opening  as  we  stood  by  the 
crib  side,  but,  fearful  of  awakening  the  little 
sleeper,  he  said  nothing.  All  children  are 
lovely  in  their  sleep,  but  as  I  held  the  lamp 
aloft,  while  we  admiringly  surveyed  this  one,  I 
think  the  same  idea  occurred  to  us  both — that 
never  was  there  one  more  beautiful  than  our 
Ralph.  Joe,  cautiously  advancing  a  horny  fore- 
finger, softly  touched  the  moist,  dimpled  little 
hand  that  lay  relaxed  outside  the  coverlet.  Then 
he  drew  the  coverlet  a  little  closer  over  the  baby 
sleeper's  shoulders,  and,  noiselessly  closing  the 


AN   OPEN   WINDOW  275 

window,  turned  away  with  a  sigh  that  be- 
longed, I  felt,  not  to  Ralph,  but  to  some  one 
whom  he  seemed  to  the  old  man  to  resemble. 

When  we  were  again  in  the  kitchen,  he  said 
decidedly  :  "  I  'clar  for  hit,  Miss  Jessie — fo'  hit 
mus'  'a'  been  yo,  w'at  done  hit ;  fo'  yo'  said  Miss 
Leslie  done  been  gone — I'se  'sprised  fur  to  see 
yo'  a-puttin'  dat  chile  ter  bed  wid  the  winder 
beside  him  wide  open,  an'  the  nights  plumb  cole 
an'  varmints  a  wanderin'  roun' — " 

"  Why,  Joe,  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  I 
never  left  it  open.  I'd  be  afraid  that  that  cat  of 
Ralph's  would  jump  in  and  wake  him,  if  nothing 
else.  When  it's  open  at  all  I'm  careful  to  open 
it  from  the  top ;  but  it's  so  cool  to-night  that  I 
didn't  open  it." 

"  I  jess  reckons  yo'  furgot  ter  shet  it,  honey," 
Joe  insisted. 

"  I'm  quite  sure  it  hasn't  been  opened,"  re- 
turned Jessie,  who  did  not  give  up  a  point  easily. 
I  could  see,  though  I  had  no  doubt  that  Joe 
was  right,  that  the  matter  really  puzzled  her. 

"  Ralph,  he  de  libin'  picter  ob  Mas'r  Ralph, 


276  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

w'en  he  was  a  little  feller,  an'  hit  ain'  no  ways 
likely  dat  I  gwine  ter  set  still  an'  see  Mas'r 
Ralph's  onliest  son  lose  his  'heritance ;  not  ef  I 
can  holp  it,"  Joe  remarked  reflectively,  after 
Jessie  had  again  proclaimed  that  she  did  not 
leave  the  window  open. 

The  words  reminded  me  of  the  danger  which 
still  threatened  us,  in  spite  of  the  providential 
help  that  Joe's  coming  had  brought  us. 

A  new  idea  occurred  to  me.  "  Jessie,"  I  said, 
"  there's  nothing  to  hinder  your  going  down  to 
town  as  early  as  you  please  to-night,  now  that 
Joe  has  come,  and  Mr.  Wilson  will  be  left  free 
to  go  with  you." 

Jessie  sprang  to  her  feet,  as  if  she  would  go 
on  the  instant. 

"  That  is  so !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  Joe,  how 
glad  I  am  that  you  came  just  as  you  did !" 

The  matter  was  then  explained  to  Joe,  who 
volunteered  to  go  over  at  once  to  Mr.  Wilson's 
and  arrange  to  take  his  place  in  the  morning, 
thus  leaving  him  free  to  go  with  Jessie. 

It  was   past  ten  o'clock  and   the  moon  was 


AN    OPEN    WINDOW  277 

just  coming  up  over  the  tree-tops  when  Joe 
started  on  his  two-mile  tramp  to  Mr.  Wilson's. 

"  You'd  better  take  one  of  the  horses,"  Jessie 
had  told  him. 

"  Wat  fur  I  want  ob  a  hoss  ?  Kudder  hab 
my  own  two  footses  to  trabbel  on — if  dey  is 
kine  o'  onsartain  some  times — dan  airy  four- 
legged  hoss  dat  eber  libed,"  Joe  returned,  disre- 
spectfully. 

Sure  that  our  good  neighbor  would  return 
with  him,  Jessie  proceeded  to  make  ready  for 
the  trip.  We  were  not  disappointed.  After 
a  wait  of  about  an  hour  we  heard  the  rattle  of 
approaching  wheels,  and  presently  Mr.  Wilson, 
with  Joe  in  the  cart  beside  him,  stopped  the 
fast  colt  before  the  gate. 

"  All  ready,  Miss  Jessie  ?"  he  sang  out  in  re- 
sponse to  our  eager  greeting. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jessie,  "  I'm  quite  ready." 

"  Climb  right  in,  then,  and  we'll  get  well 
started  before  midnight.  Whatever  Horton 
does,  he  can't  beat  that,  for  we'll  have  our 
forces — part  of  'em,  any  way — drawn  up  in 


278  TWO   WYOMING    GfRLS 

battle  array  before  the  Land  Office  doors  when 
they  open  at  seven  o'clock.  We  won't  need  to 
hurry  to  do  it,  either.  We'll  have  time  to 
brush  up  and  eat  our  breakfasts  like  a  couple 
of  Christians  after  we  get  there." 

"  Had  I  better  take  the  money  with  me  ?" 
Jessie  asked. 

"  Certainly,  all  you  can  rake  and  scrape." 

Jessie  laughed  gleefully ;  it  was  evident  that 
Joe  had  not  told  Mr.  Wilson  of  his  recent  finan- 
cial transaction.  When  Jessie  told  him,  he  got 
up — the  colt  had  been  tied  at  the  gate  and  we 
were  all  within  doors  again,  in  spite  of  Mr. 
Wilson's  first  entreaty  to  Jessie  to  "get  right 
in  " — crossed  the  room  and  held  out  his  hand 
to  the  old  negro. 

"  Shake,  friend  !"  As  Joe,  rather  reluctantly, 
I  thought,  for  he  was  a  shy  old  man,  laid  his 
black  hand  in  Mr.  Wilson's  clasp,  the  latter 
continued :  "  I  reckon  I  know  a  man  when  I 
see  one,  be  he  white  or  black,  and  I  tell  you 
I'm  proud  to  have  the  chance  of  shaking  hands 
with  you !" 


AN   OPEN   WINDOW  279 

Joe,  furtively  rubbing  the  hand  that  he  had 
released — for,  in  his  earnestness,  Mr.  Wilson  had 
evidently  given  it  a  telling  pressure — hung  his 
head,  and  responded,  sheepishly :  "  I  reckons 
I'se  be  a  whole  Noah's  A'k  full  of  animals  ef 
dish  yer  sort  ob  t'ing  gwine  keep  on.  Miss 
Leslie,  she  done  call  me  a  angel,  and  now  yo' 
done  says  I'se  a  man.  Kine  o'  ha'd  on  a  ole 
feller  like  me,  hit  is !" 

Mr.  Wilson  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"  You're  all  right,  Joe ;  we  won't  talk  about 
it.  And  now,  how  is  Miss  Jessie  to  get  the 
money  ?" 

"I'se  gwine  draw  a  check  on  de  bank  in 
Fa'hplay  to  cobber  de  whole  'posit,"  returned 
Joe,  with  dignity ;  "  I  done  axed  the  cashier 
'bout  hit,  an'  he  tole  me  w'at  ter  do.  He  gin 
me  some  papers  w'at  he  called  blanket  checks, 
an'  tole  me  how  to  fill  'em  out.  I'se  done  been 
keepin'  ob  'em  safe."  In  proof  of  which  state- 
ment Joe  drew  an  old-fashioned  leather  wallet 
from  an  inner  pocket  of  his  ragged  coat,  undid 
the  strap  with  which  it  was  bound,  and,  opening 


280  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

it,  carefully  extracted  therefrom  two  or  three 
bits  of  paper,  that  a  glance  sufficed  to  show  were 
blank  checks  on  the  First  National  Bank  of 
Fairplay.  While  he  was  getting  the  checks  out 
another  paper,  loosely  folded  and  yellow  with 
age,  slipped  from  the  wallet,  falling  to  the 
hearth.  As  it  fell  there  slid  from  its  loose  folds 
a  soft  curl  of  long,  bright  hair,  of  the  exact  hue 
of  little  Ralph's.  Stooping,  Jessie  picked  up 
the  shining  tendril,  pausing  to  twine  it  gently 
around  her  finger  before  tendering  it  to  Joe. 

"  Ralph's  hair  is  a  little  darker,  I  believe,  than 
it  was  when  you  cut  this,  Joe,"  she  remarked, 
going  to  the  light  for  a  nearer  view. 

"  Dat  ar'  c'ul  did'n'  grow  on  dis  Ralph's  head, 
honey ;  I  cut  dat  offen  de  head  ob  dat  odder 
Ralph  w'at's  a  lyin'  in  de  grabeya'd,  w'en  he 
was  littler  dan  dis  one ;  an'  I'se  'done  carried 
dat  cu'l  close  to  my  heart  fo'  upwa'ds  ob  fo'ty 
yeah,"  responded  Joe  simply,  as  he  took  the  bit 
of  hair  from  Jessie's  finger,  and  carefully  re- 
placed it.  "W'en  I  dies,"  he  continued,  "I 
am'  carin'  w'at  sort  ob  a  berryin'  I  gets,  ner 


AN    OPEN    WINDOW  281 

w'at  sort  ob  clo'se  my  ole  body  is  wrapped  up  in, 
but  I'd  like  fur  to  be  suah  dat  dish  yer  bit  o' 
hair  goes  inter  de  groun'  wid  me." 

He  looked  up  at  us,  his  beloved  young  mas- 
ter's children,  solemnly  and  question ingly,  as 
though  exacting  a  promise,  which  was  given, 
though  no  words  were  spoken  on  either  side. 
Eyes  have  a  language  of  their  own. 

"  Now  ef  yo'll  done  fotch  me  de  ink  bottle, 
Miss  Leslie,  honey,  I'se  boun'  ter  fill  out  dish 
yer  blanket  check,  same  like  de  cashier  done 
tole  me,"  Joe  went  on  with  a  business-like  change 
of  tone. 

The  ink  bottle,  with  pen  and  holder,  was  pro- 
duced and  placed  on  the  table  which  Joe  imme- 
diately cleared  for  action  by  removing  every 
article  upon  it  until  he  had  a  clear  sweep  of 
some  three  or  four  feet,  then  he  sat  down  and 
proceeded,  slowly,  slowly,  to  fill  out  the  check  in 
Jessie's  favor.  It  was  a  task  that  required  time 
and  infinite  painstaking.  We  had  not  known 
that  Joe  could  write,  and  I  am  afraid  that,  even 
when  he  announced  that  the  work  was  done  and 


282  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

the  check  filled  out,  we  were  by  no  means  sure 
of  it,  for  wonderful  indeed  were  the  hiero- 
glyphics through  whose  agency  Joe  proclaimed 
his  purpose.  There  was  one  thing  certain,  how- 
ever, no  sane  cashier,  having  once  seen  that 
unique  signature,  could  for  a  moment  doubt  its 
authenticity. 

Mr.  Wilson  glanced  over  the  document,  as 
Joe  at  length  put  it  in  Jessie's  hand.  "  That's 
all  right,"  he  said,  in  his  hearty,  reassur- 
ing way.  "  You've  got  it  all  as  straight  as 
a  string,  Joe" — which  he  had  not,  so  far  as 
mechanical  execution  went — "  we'll  have  no 
trouble  now.  Put  that  away  safely,  Jessie,  and 
let's  be  going." 

"  Shall  we  take  the  Bible  now  ?"  Jessie  asked, 
after  she  had  complied  with  his  directions. 

"  Oh,  no ;  time  enough  for  that  when  Joe 
comes  down.  Put  on  a  warm  bonnet  and  shawl, 
now,"  he  continued,  "  for  the  nights  are  chilly." 

In  the  days  of  his  youth  women  and  girls 
wore  bonnets  and  shawls,  and  I  never  knew  him 
to  refer  to  their  cloaks  or  headgear  in  any  other 


AN  OPEN  WINDOW  283 

terms.  Jessie  assured  him  that  she  was  well 
protected,  and  Joe  and  I  followed  her  and  her 
sturdy  escort  out  to  the  gate. 

"  Had  Leslie  better  come  down  with  the  others 
to-morrow?"  Jessie  inquired  after  they  were 
seated  in  the  cart,  and  while  Joe  was  tucking 
the  lap  robe  around  her  feet. 

"  Oh,  no  !  By  no  means.  It  isn't  necessary, 
and  her  being  here  will  enable  us  to  swear  that 
the  house  hasn't  been  vacant,  day  or  night,  since 
the  claim  was  first  filed  on,  and  ain't  vacant  even 
at  the  present  minute.  We  can't  be  too  careful, 
you  know.  Good  night  to  you  both I" 

He  spoke  to  the  colt ;  Jessie  echoed  his  good 
night,  and  they  were  gone. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ALONE   ON    THE   CLAIM 

JOE  glanced  at  the  clock  as  we  re-entered  the 
house,  after  the  cart  had  disappeared  down  the 
road.  "  Now,  if  yo'  gits  right  to  bed,  Leslie, 
chile,  yo's  gwine  git  right  sraa'ht  ob  sleep  afore 
yo'  has  to  git  up  ter  holp  me  git  stahted,"  he 
said. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock.  "  I  don't  know,  Joe," 
I  returned.  "It  seems  hardly  worth  while 
to  try  to  sleep  at  all ;  we  must  get  up  so 
soon." 

"  Hit's  wuf  while  ter  git  sleep  w'enebber,  an' 
wharebber  yo'  kin,"  the  old  man  insisted,  with 
the  wisdom  of  experience. 

Accordingly,  I  lay  down  on  my  bed  with- 
out taking  the  trouble  to  undress — I  was  so 
fearful  of  oversleeping.  For  a  long  time  I 
lay  thinking  of  Jessie,  on  her  hurried  night 
ride,  of  old  Joe,  and  the  blessed  relief  that 
284 


ALONE    ON    THE   CLAIM  285 

his  coming  had  brought  us,  and,  above  all, 
of  Mr.  Horton  and  his  machinations.  I  meant 
to  be  awake  when  the  hour  that  Joe  had  sug- 
gested for  rising,  struck.  The  hour  was  five 
o'clock,  but  it  was  well  past,  when  a  gentle 
tap  on  the  door  awoke  me,  and  Joe's  voice  an- 
nounced: "Hit's  done  struck  fibe,  Miss  Leslie; 
yo's  bettah  be  stirrin." 

My  reply  was  forestalled  by  a  delighted  cry 
from  the  crib,  where  Ralph  was  supposed  to  lie 
asleep  :  "  Oho !  Mine  Joe  is  turn  'ome !  Mine 
Joe  is  turn  'ome !" 

I  heard  the  negro  shuffle  quickly  across  the 
floor,  and  the  next  instant  Ralph  was  in  his 
arms  and  being  borne  triumphantly  into  the 
kitchen.  The  friendship  between  the  two  was 
mutual,  and  it  was  not  at  all  surprising  that 
Ralph  was  beside  himself  with  joy  at  Joe's 
return.  He  hurried  through  his  own  breakfast, 
watched  Joe,  gravely,  through  his,  and  then 
announced  his  intention  of  accompanying  the 
latter,  "  in  'e  waggin."  He  had  gathered  from 
our  conversation  that  Joe  was  going  somewhere, 


286  TWO    WYOMING   G1KLS 

and,  wherever  it  was,  he  was  willing  to  bear  him 
company. 

"  Wer  my  'at  ?"  he  asked,  trotting  about  in 
search  of  that  article,  as  Joe  drove  up  to  the 
door  with  the  horses  and  light  wagon. 

"  Your  hat  is  under  your  crib,  dear,  but  you 
can't  go  with  Joe  to-day." 

"  'Ess ;  me  doin',"  he  returned,  obstinately, 
securing  the  hat,  while  I  was  carrying  the  Bible 
out  to  Joe. 

"  Now,  Joe,  take  good  care  of  it !"  I  coun- 
seled him,  as  he  stooped  down  to  take  the  bulky 
volume  from  my  arms. 

"Keer?  Ha!  I  reckons  I'se  bouii'  fur  tek' 
keer  ob  dat  book !  Lots  ob  folks  w'at  done  all 
sorts  ob  t'iugs,  shet  up  'atweeu  de  leds  ob  dat 
book.  Some  good  t'ings  dey  done,  an' a  mighty 
lot  o'  bad  ones,  an'  I  ain'  goin'  let  none  ob  'em 
git  out!  Leslie,  chile,  I'se  gwine  sot  on  dat 
book,  an'  keep  dem  folks  squelched  'til  we  all 
roun's  up  in  front  ob  de  'Ian'  office;  yo'  kin 
count  on  dat !" 

Placing    the   book    on    the    wagon-seat,  he 


ALOtfE   Otf  THE   CLAIM  287 

spread  a  blanket  over  it,  then  planted  himself, 
squarely  and  with  emphasis,  upon  it.  "  Dere, 
dey's  safe !"  He  gathered  up  the  lines  ;  the  out- 
fit was  in  motion  when  its  progress  was  suddenly 
arrested  by  a  piercing  cry  from  Ralph  : 

"  'Top,  'top,  Joe !   Me's  doin'  wiv'  'oo,  me  is !" 

The  little  fellow  was  standing  beside  the 
wagon,  his  arms  upstretched  to  be  taken,  and  the 
tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks.  Joe  looked 
at  him,  and  scratched  his  head  in  perplexity. 
"  I'se  wisht'  yo'd  stayed  asleep  till  I'se  done  got 
away,  honey  chile — I  does  so !"  he  muttered, 
ruefully. 

"  Me's  doin' !"  Ralph  insisted,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  halt  to  swarm  up  over  the  wheel-hub, 
and  to  get  his  white  apron  covered  with  wagon- 
grease. 

"  Me  is  doin' !"   he  repeated. 

"  Train  up  a  chile  in  de  way  w'at  he  wants 
ter  go,  an'  w'en  he  is  ole  he  won't  depart  from 
it !"  Joe  quoted,  with  fatal  aptness.  "  Dat  chile 
cain't  be  'lowed  fur  ter  run  t'ings  dish  yer  way  ; 
he  cain't  be  'lowed  ter  go  to  town,  noway  ;  but 


288  TWO   WYOMING  GIRLS 

I  tell  yo'  w'at,  honey,  yo'  might  jess  slip  er 
clean  apern  on  ter  him  an*  let  him  ride  down  ter 
Wilson's  'long  'er  me.  Dat  Mis'  Wilson,  she 
always  bein'  tickled  when  she  see  Ralph." 

"  'Ess ;  me  do  see  Mif  'Ilson,"  Ralph  declared, 
brightening.  It  was  true  that  the  good  ranch- 
man's wife  had  always  made  much  of  him,  and 
was  glad  to  have  him  with  her,  and  I  had  a 
particular  reason  for  being  glad  of  the  tem- 
porary freedom  that  his  going  over  there  would 
give  me.  I  made  haste  to  change  his  soiled 
dress  and  get  him  ready.  "  Tell  her,"  I  said,  as 
I  lifted  him  into  the  wagon,  "  that  I'll  come 
over  after  him  some  time  this  afternoon  ;  it  isn't 
far,  and  if  I  start  early  enough  he  can  easily 
walk  home  with  me  before  night." 

"  Dat's  right ;  we's  got  dat  all  fixed,"  Joe  re- 
sponded cheerfully.  He  started  the  team  again, 
while  Ralph,  his  good  humor  restored,  threw  me 
kisses  as  the  wagon  rattled  away. 

I  had  mentioned  it  to  no  one,  but  I  was 
secretly  a  good  deal  worried  over  the  non-ap- 
pearance of  Guard.  In  the  present  absorbed 


ALONE  Off   THE   CLAIM  289 

interest  in  other  matters,  I  think  none  of  the 
family,  save  myself,  had  taken  note  of  the  fact 
that  the  dog  had  not  been  seen  since  his  noisy 
scramble  up  the  hillside  in  pursuit  of  some 
animal,  the  evening  before. 

Only  hunters,  or  those  who  dwell  in  remote 
and  lonely  places,  can  realize  how  fully  one's 
canine  followers  may  become,  in  certain  sur- 
roundings, at  once  comrades  and  friends.  I 
missed  the  dog's  shaggy  black  head  and  at- 
tentive eyes  as  I  hurried  through  with  the  morn- 
ing's milking.  He  was  wont  to  sit  beside  me 
during  that  operation,  and  watch  proceedings 
with  absorbed  and  judicial  interest.  I  missed 
him  again  as  I  heard  a  fluttering  and  squawk- 
ing that  might  mean  mischief,  near  the  poultry 
yard.  Above  all,  in  the  absence  of  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  I  missed  his 
companionship.  So,  as  I  hastened  with  the 
morning's  tasks,  I  resolved  to  take  the  oppor- 
tunity afforded  by  Kalph's  absence,  and  go  in 
search  of  him.  Disquieting  recollections  of  the 
wildcat  that  he  and  I  had  dared,  and  of  the 

19 


2UO  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

wildcat  that  had  dared  Mrs.  Lloyd,  canie  to  my 
mind.  It  seemed  to  me  by  no  means  improb- 
able that  Guard  had  treed  one  of  these  creatures 
and  was  holding  it  until  help  came  or  until  the 
cat  should  become  tired  of  imprisonment  and 
make  a  rush  for  liberty ;  a  rush  that,  if  it  came 
to  close  quarters,  would  be  pretty  certain  to  re- 
sult disastrously  for  Guard.  So  thinking,  I  took 
father's  light  rifle — which  was  always  kept 
loaded — down  from  its  place  on  the  kitchen  wall, 
buckled  a  belt  of  cartridges  around  my  waist, 
and,  locking  the  door  behind  me,  started  on  my 
quest. 

Guard's  vanishing  bark,  on  the  previous  even- 
ing, had  led  up  the  hillside,  behind  the  house. 
So,  up  the  hillside  I  went,  scanning  the  ground 
eagerly  for  tracks,  or  for  any  sign  that  might 
indicate  which  direction  to  take.  The  ground 
was  thickly  strewn  with  pine  needles  and  the 
search  for  tracks  was  fruitless;  an  elephant's 
track  would  not  have  shown  on  such  ground  as 
that.  After  a  little,  though,  I  did  find  some- 
thing that  puzzled  me.  Lying  conspicuously 


ALONE   ON    THE   CLAIM  291 

near  the  cattle-trail  that  led  upward  into  the 
higher  hills,  was  a  large  piece  of  fresh  beef. 
Stopping,  I  turned  the  meat  over  cautiously 
with  the  toe  of  my  shoe,  wondering  greatly  how 
it  came  to  be  just  there.  It  was  cut — not  torn — 
so  it  could  not  have  been  dropped  there  by  any 
wild  beast,  but  by  some  person.  As  I  looked 
attentively  at  it,  some  white  substance,  lying 
half  hidden  in  a  deep  cleft  in  the  meat,  attracted 
my  attention.  I  stood  still  for  a  long  time, 
studying  that  bit  of  beef.  That  the  white  sub- 
stance was  poison  I  had  not  a  doubt.  If  some 
one  were  anxious  to  kill  a  dog — like  a  flash  the 
recollection  of  Guard's  indiscreet  charge  on  Mr. 
Horton's  horse,  and  of  Mr.  Horton's  speechless 
rage  thereat,  came  to  my  mind.  An  attempt  to 
poison  Guard  did  not  strike  me,  at  the  moment, 
as  an  act  indicating  anything  more  than  a  deter- 
mination to  be  revenged  on  him  for  the  trouble 
that  he  had  already  given  Mr.  Horton.  After- 
ward, I  understood  its  full  significance.  A  little 
beyond  the  spot  where  I  found  the  poisoned 
meat,  well  out  of  sight  from  the  house,  or  of  any 


292  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

chance  passers-by,  I  came  to  a  tree  under  which 
a  horse  had  evidently  been  recently  tethered,  and 
that,  too,  for  a  long  time.  I  wondered  at  this, 
for,  among  us,  people  seldom  tether  a  horse  ;  it 
is  considered  an  essential  part  of  a  cow  pony's 
training  to  learn  to  remain  long  in  one  place 
without  being  fastened  in  any  way.  Still,  as  I 
reflected,  the  matter  was  not  one  to  cause  wonder. 
The  ground  was  torn  and  trampled  by  the  im- 
patient, pawing  hoofs,  and  I  knew  very  well 
what  horse  it  was  that,  for  his  recent  sins, 
might  have  been  compelled  to  do  penance  in  this 
manner. 

Something  over  half  a  mile  from  our  house 
there  was  a  break  in  the  hills — the  beginning  of 
a  long  and  dark  ravine  that,  trending  south- 
ward, led,  if  one  cared  to  traverse  it,  in  a  toler- 
ably straight  course  to  the  far  lower  end  of  the 
valley,  near  where  the  Hortons  lived. 

It  was  an  uncanny  place — dark  at  all  times, 
as  well  as  damp,  and  so  uninviting  in  its  wild- 
ness,  even  as  a  short  cut  to  a  brighter  place,  that 
it  was  very  seldom  entered.  As  I  stood  on  the 


ALONE   ON    THE   CLAIM  293 

hill  above  it,  peering  down  into  its  shadows,  a 
great  longing  took  possession  of  me  to  know 
whether  Mr.  Hortoii  had  really  gone  to  town  as 
he  threatened.  Besides,  if  Guard  were  really 
standing  sentinel  over  a  wildcat,  no  more  prom- 
ising place  to  search  for  him  could  be  found. 
So  thinking,  I  readjusted  my  cartridge-belt, 
swung  the  rifle  muzzle  to  the  front,  ready  for 
instant  use,  should  occasion  demand  it,  and,  not 
without  some  unpleasant,  creepy  sensations  at 
the  roots  of  my  hair,  I  dropped  down  into  the 
ravine. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HUNTING   FOB   GUARD 

THE  ravine  was  a  mile  or  more  in  length,  and 
I  traversed  it  rapidly  without  coming  upon  any 
traces  of  Guard  or  the  wildcat. 

Sooner  than  I  had  expected,  despite  my 
anxiety,  the  ravine  widened,  the  encroaching 
walls  became  lower,  the  light  stronger,  and,  in  a 
moment  more,  I  came  out  on  a  wide,  park-like 
opening,  back  of  Mr.  Horton's  house. 

I  had  not  met  Mrs.  Horton  since  the  morning 
that  the  wheat  crop  was  destroyed,  although  I 
had  seen  her  passing  the  house  frequently  on 
her  way  to  and  from  the  store.  It  was  plain 
that  she  avoided  us,  through  no  fault  or  desire 
of  her  own,  but  out  of  very  shame  because  of 
the  brand  on  the  cattle  that  had  ruined  our 
crops.  Casting  about  in  my  mind  for  an  ex- 
cuse for  calling  on  her  now,  I  was  impelled  to 
go  on,  even  without  an  excuse.  My  conscience 
294 


HUNTING   FOR   GUARD  295 

told  me  that  I  had  treated  her  with  less  kind- 
ness on  that  occasion  than  she  deserved.  Strik- 
ing into  the  cattle  trail  that,  bordering  the  park, 
led  to  Hor ton's  corral,  I  followed  it  to  the  cor- 
ral gate,  and  was  soon  after  knocking  at  Hor- 
ton's  front  door.  My  knock  was  answered  by 
Mrs.  Horton,  who  exclaimed  in  astonishment 
at  sight  of  me : 

"  Why,  I  declare !  I  thought  you'd  be  gone 
to  town  to-day,  sure.  Has  Jessie  gone  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  ;  and  Ralph  is  at  Mrs.  Wilson's." 

"  Well,  well !  Come  right  in  !  And  so  you 
didn't  go.  I  don't  see  how  you  managed  it, 
hardly." 

"  Joe  came  home  in  time  to  drive  down,  and 
Mr. — we  thought  it  best  not  to  leave  the  home- 
stead alone." 

Mrs.  Horton  nodded  her  head  approvingly. 

"  That  was  a  good  thought ;  you  can't  be  too 
careful.  I  declare,  I  wish  you  had  brought 
Ralph  over  here — the  precious !  I've  been  feel- 
ing as  lonesome  as  an  owl  this  morning.  Gen- 
erally I  don't  mind  being  left  alone,  not  a  bit ; 


296  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

I'm  used  to  it ;  but  I  was  feeling  disappointed 
to-day,  and  so  everything  goes  against  the  grain, 
I  s'pose." 

I  must  have  looked  sympathetic,  for  she  pres- 
ently broke  out : 

"  I  don't  feel,  Leslie,  as  if  I  was  an  unreason- 
able or  exacting  kind  of  woman,  in  general, 
but  Jake  talked  last  night  as  if  he  thought  I 
was.  You  see,  I  had  set  my  heart  on  going  to 
town  when  it  came  time  for  you  girls  to  prove 
up.  I'd  thought  of  lots  of  little  things  that  I 
was  going  to  mention  to  the  Land  Agent,  to  in- 
fluence him  in  your  favor,  and  I  guess  there 
aren't  many  folks  that  know  better  than  I  do  how 
you've  tried  and  tried  to  fill  all  the  require- 
ments. But  Jake — " 

She  paused,  her  mouth,  with  its  gentle-looking 
curves,  closing  as  if  she  would  say  no  more. 
But  her  grievance  was  too  fresh  and  too  bitter  to 
admit  of  her  keeping  silence.  In  answer  to  my 
respectful  inquiry  as  to  why  she  didn't  go,  she 
burst  out  impatiently  : 

"  Jake  wouldn't  let  me.     Said  if  I  did  I'd 


HUNTING    FOR    GUARD  297 

be  interfering  with  what  was  none  of  my  busi- 
ness— as  if  I  ever  interfered  with  any  one  else's 
business — and,  besides,  he  said  it  wasn't  conve- 
nient to  take  me.  He  went  on  horseback  him- 
self." 

"  Oh,  he's  gone,  then  ?" 

"  Gracious,  yes !  Gone  !  He's  been  in  town 
nearly  all  night.  He  was  out  somewhere  last 
evening,  looking  up  cattle,  he  said,  and  he  didn't 
get  in  till  almost  nine  o'clock ;  then  he  ate 
supper  and  started  right  off.  I  thought  it  was 
a  rather  dark  time  to  be  starting  for  town,  but 
he  said  the  moon  would  be  rising  before  he  got 
out  on  to  the  plains,  and  he  didn't  care  for  the 
dark." 

"  Why  was  he  so  anxious  to  get  to  town  early 
this  morning  ?"  I  asked,  with  what  I  inwardly 
felt  to  be  almost  insolent  persistency.  Mr. 
Horton's  good  wife  suspected  nothing,  however. 

"  Why,  I  suppose,  to  help  you  folks,  if  help 
was  needed,"  she  replied,  readily.  "  I've  felt 
awfully  cut  upj  Leslie,  about  the  way  our  cattle 
destroyed  your  crops.  It  just  went  to  my  heart 


298  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

to  think  that  it  was  our  cattle  that  did  it " — and 
the  tears  in  her  honest  blue  eyes  attested  the  sin- 
cerity of  her  words — "  I've  talked  to  Jake  a 
good  deal  about  it.  He  hasn't  said  straight  out 
that  he'd  pay  damages,  but  I've  been  thinking 
maybe  he  intended  to  do  it  in  his  own  way,  and 
his  way  was  to  get  to  town  and  help  you  all  he 
could  with  the  Land  Agent.  As  he's  been 
known  to  the  claim  so  long,  his  word  ought  to 
have  weight.  Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid — I  mean  yes,  certainly,"  I  stam- 
mered. It  was  not  reassuring  to  think  of  the 
weight  that  his  word  might  have. 

"  When  do  you  look  for  Mr.  Horton  to  re- 
turn ?"  I  asked,  rising  from  my  chair  as  I 
spoke. 

"  Oh,  not  until  your  business  is  all  settled ; 
he  said  he'd  stay  and  see  it  all  through.  He 
said  that  he'd  have  a  surprise  for  me  when  he 
got  back  ;  but  I  guess  he  won't.  I  imagine  that 
he  thought  I'd  feel  surprised  to  learn  that  you'd 
received  your  papers,  but  I'd  be  surprised  if  you 
didn't,  after  the  way  you've  kept  the  faith,  so  to 


HUNTING    FOR   GUARD  291) 

speak.  Oh,  now,  sit  down !  You're  not  going 
yet,  are  you  ?  And  after  such  a  walk  as  it  is 
from  your  house  here,  too  !" 

"  I  came  down  by  the  trail,  Mrs.  Horton." 
And  then  I  told  her  about  Guard,  thus  account- 
ing for  the  gun,  which  I  had  caught  her  glan- 
cing at,  once  or  twice,  rather  curiously. 

"  Young  dogs  are  foolish,"  was  her  comment, 
when  she  had  heard  the  story.  "  If  he  was 
older,  I  should  tell  you  not  to  be  a  mite  wor- 
ried, but  as  he's  a  young  one,  it's  different.  I've 
known  a  young  dog  to  get  on  a  hot  trail,  and  fol- 
low it  until  he  was  completely  lost.  My  father 
lost  a  fine  deerhound  that  way  once.  The  dog 
got  on  the  trail  of  a  buck,  and  last  we  ever 
heard  of  him  he  was  twenty  miles  away,  and 
still  going.  I  do  hope  you  won't  have  such  bad 
luck  with  your  dog." 

I  bade  good-by  to  Mrs.  Horton,  and  started 
homeward,  again  taking  the  trail  through  the 
ravine.  I  was  not  much  cheered  by  her  words 
in  regard  to  Guard,  and  heavily  depressed  by 
the  knowledge  that  Mr.  Horton  had,  after  all, 


300  TWO   WYOMING  GIRLS 

beaten  Mr.  Wilson  and  Jessie  in  his  start  for 
town — though  what  difference  it  could  make, 
either  way,  until  the  Land  Office  was  open  in 
the  morning  no  one  could  have  told.  Being 
troubled,  I  walked  slowly,  this  time,  with  my 
eyes  on  the  ground.  Half-way  through  the 
ravine  I  came  to  a  point  where  a  break  in  the 
walls  let  in  the  sunlight.  Through  this  low, 
ragged  depression  the  light  was  streaming  in  in 
a  long,  brilliant  shaft  as  I  approached  the  spot. 
The  warm,  bright  column  of  golden  light  had 
so  strange  an  effect,  lighting  up  the  gray  rocks 
and  the  moist,  reeking  pathway,  that  I  paused 
to  admire  it.  "  If  it  were  only  a  rainbow,  now," 
I  thought,  "  I  should  look  under  the  end  of  it, 
there,  for  a  bag  of  gold."  My  eyes  absently 
followed  the  column  of  light  to  the  point  where 
it  seemed  suddenly  to  end  in  the  darkness  of  the 
ravine,  and  I  uttered  a  startled  cry.  Under  the 
warm,  bright  light  I  saw  the  distinct  impression 
of  a  dog's  foot.  It  was  as  clearly  defined  in  the 
oozy  reek  as  it  would  have  been  had  some  one 
purposely  taken  a  cast  of  it,  but  after  the  first 


HUNTING    FOR   GUARD  301 

start,  I  reflected  that  it  did  not  necessarily  follow 
that  the  print  was  made  by  Guard.  Still,  ex- 
amination showed  that  it  might  well  be  his. 
Searching  farther,  I  found  more  tracks — above 
the  break  in  the  wall,  but  none  in  the  ravine 
below  it.  The  footprints  had  been  a  good  deal 
marred  by  my  own  as  I  came  down  the  ravine, 
and,  what  I  thought  most  singular,  supposing 
the  tracks  to  have  been  made  by  Guard,  there 
were  also  the  hoof-marks  of  a  horse — not  a 
range-horse,  for  this  one  wore  shoes,  and,  devel- 
oping Indian  lore  as  I  studied  the  trail,  I  pres- 
ently made  the  important  discovery  that,  while 
the  dog's  tracks  occasionally  overlaid  those  of 
the  horse,  the  horse's  tracks  never  covered  the 
dog's.  Clearly,  then,  if  those  footprints  belonged 
to  Guard,  as  I  had  a  quite  unaccountable  con- 
viction that  they  did,  he  was  quietly  following 
some  horseman.  For  an  indignant  instant  I 
suspected  some  reckless  cowboy  of  having  las- 
soed and  stolen  him,  but  a  little  further  study 
of  the  footprints  spoiled  that  theory.  Guard 
would  have  resisted  such  a  seizure,  and  the  foot- 


302  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

prints  would  have  been  blurred  and  dragging. 
The  clean  impressions  left  by  this  canine  were 
not  those  of  an  unwilling  captive.  I  followed 
the  tracks  along  the  trail  to  the  upper  end  of 
the  ravine  for  some  time,  but  learning  nothing 
further  in  that  way,  returned  again  to  the  break 
in  the  wall.  Looking  attentively  at  that,  I  at 
length  discovered  a  long,  fresh  mark  on  the 
slippery  rock.  Such  a  mark  as  might  have 
been  made  by  the  iron-shod  hoof  of  a  horse, 
scrambling  up  the  wall  in  haste,  and  slipping 
dangerously  on  the  insecure  foothold.  With  the 
recognition  of  this,  I  was  scrambling  up  the 
bank  myself.  Scarcely  had  my  head  reached 
the  level  of  the  bank  when  a  loud,  eager 
whinny  broke  the  silence.  Startled,  I  slipped 
into  a  thicket  of  scrub-oaks,  and,  from  their 
friendly  shelter,  made  a  cautious  reconnoissance. 
Not  far  away,  and  standing  in  clear  view,  a  bay 
horse  was  tethered  to  the  over-hanging  limb  of 
a  pine  tree.  It  did  not  need  a  second  glance 
for  me  to  recognize  Don,  Mr.  Horton's  favorite 
saddle-horse.  That  the  poor  creature  had  had  a 


HUNTING   FOR   GUARD  303 

long  and  tedious  wait,  his  eager  whinnying,  and 
the  pawing  of  his  impatient  hoof,  as  he  looked 
over  in  my  direction,  plainly  told. 

I  watched  him  for  awhile,  breathlessly,  and 
in  silence,  but  he  was  far  too  anxious  to  keep 
silent  himself.  His  distress  was  so  apparent 
that  I  felt  sorry  for  him,  and  finally  decided 
that  I  might,  at  least,  venture  to  approach  and 
speak  to  him.  Leaving  my  place  of  conceal- 
ment I  started  toward  him,  but  stopped  abruptly 
with  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  before  I  had  taken 
a  dozen  steps,  as  a  new  sound  broke  the  silence. 
A  new  sound,  but  familiar,  and  doubly  welcome 
in  that  wild  place.  It  was  the  sharp,  excited 
yelping  that  Guard  was  wont  to  make  when  he 
had  treed  game  and  needed  help. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

GUARD'S  PRISONER 

AT  the  sound  of  Guard's  voice,  regardless  of 
caution,  and  waiting  only  to  raise  the  hammer 
of  the  rifle  that  I  held  ready  in  my  hand,  I  ran 
forward.  Guard  evidently  had  his  eyes  on  me, 
although  I  could  not  see  him ;  his  yelps  ceased 
for  an  instant  to  break  forth  with  redoubled 
energy  as  I  came  within  sight  of  him.  He  was 
standing  over  a  heap  of  rubbish,  into  which  he 
was  glaring  with  vindictive  watchfulness,  but 
with  one  alert  ear  bent  in  my  direction  and  the 
tip  of  his  bushy  tail  quivered  in  joyful  recogni- 
tion as  I  advanced  toward  him.  Before  reaching 
him,  however,  I  had  found  my  bearings,  as  the 
hunters  say,  and  knew  the  locality.  Still,  the 
place  had  an  unfamiliar  air.  It  was  a  minute 
or  two  before  I  saw  the  cause  of  this ;  then  I 
missed  the  one  thing  that  particularly  designated 
the  spot,  setting  it  apart  to  that  extent  from 
304 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  305 

many  similar  places.  I  had  not  seen  the  lonely, 
secluded  little  park  more  than  two  or  three  times 
in  all  the  years  that  we  had  lived  so  near  it,  but 
whenever  I  had  seen  it,  hitherto,  a  hunter's 
shack,  long  abandoned,  had  stood  on  the  farther 
edge  of  the  opening.  It  had  always  seemed  on 
the  verge  of  falling,  and,  as  I  neared  Guard,  I 
saw  that  this  was  the  thing  that  had  happened : 
the  cabin  had  collapsed,  and,  more  than  that, 
Guard  had  run  something  to  earth  under  it. 

The  dog's  excited  yelping,  now  that  relief  was 
at  hand,  was  ear-splitting,  but  his  vigilant  watch 
did  not  for  an  instant  relax. 

"  What  is  it,  Guard — have  you  got  a  wild-cat 
in  there  ?"  I  panted,  breathlessly,  halting  beside 
him.  "  Well ;  you  just  wait,  now ;  we're  going 
to  get  him  this  time !"  So  speaking,  I  cau- 
tiously trained  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle  on  the 
spot  that  his  vigilant  eyes  never  left  off  watch- 
ing. Then  I  cast  a  hasty  glance  around.  If  half 
the  wild-cat  stories  that  I  had  been  hearing  of 
late  were  true,  it  would  be  well  to  have  some 
place  of  retreat  to  fall  back  upon,  in  case  the 

20 


306  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

cat,  proving  obdurate,  should  decline  to  die 
easily.  Fortunately,  as  I  thought,  there  was  a 
large  pine  tree  close  at  hand ;  it  was,  indeed, 
immensely  large.  I  could  no  more  have  swarmed 
up  that  scaly  trunk,  had  I  flown  to  it  for  pro- 
tection, than  I  could  have  spread  out  a  pair  of 
wings  and  flown  to  its  topmost  branches.  In 
my  excitement,  I  never  thought  of  that,  nor  of 
the  equally  unpleasant  fact  that  wild-cats  are 
expert  climbers.  Sure  that  the  refuge  at  hand 
would  suit,  I  dropped  on  one  knee,  training  the 
rifle-muzzle  into  a  crevice  between  a  couple  of 
fallen  logs,  and  sighting  along  the  barrel.  I 
could  see  nothing,  but,  with  my  finger  on  the 
trigger,  I  was  prepared  to  fire  whether  I  sighted 
the  enemy  or  not.  Guard  drew  back,  silent, 
now,  but  trembling  with  excitement. 

"  Hold  on !"  cried  a  voice  from  the  rubbish 
heap,  "  I  aint  no  wildcat !"  The  voice  was 
shrill  and  sharp  with  terror,  but  I  knew  it  in- 
stantly for  that  of  Jacob  Hortou.  The  rifle 
slipped  unheeded  from  my  nerveless  hand,  while 
Guard,  since  there  was  evidently  to  be  no  shoot- 


i  AINT  NO  WILDCAT!" 

(Page  306) 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  307 

ing,  resumed  his  former  post  and  growled 
menacingly. 

"  Why — why,"  I  stammered,  "if  you  are  not 
a  wildcat — if  you  are  a  man — I  thought  you 
had  gone  to  town  !" 

"  Gone  to  town !"  the  voice,  losing  its  tone  of 
terror,  degenerated  into  a  snarl.  "  I've  been 
here  all  night.  I've  met  up  with  an  accident. 
I'm  pinned  down  under  a  log,  and  that  infernal 
dog  of  yours  has  stood  and  growled  at  me  all 
night ;  I  ain't  dared  to  say  my  soul  was  my 
own." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  any  one  else  would  care 
to  claim  it." 

The  words  broke  from  me  involuntarily.  I 
had  the  grace  to  feel  ashamed  the  minute  they 
were  spoken.  Guard's  prisoner  answered  my 
unfeeling  observation  with  a  groan,  and  I  looked 
reproachfully  at  Guard,  who  returned  the  look 
with  a  hopeful  glance  of  his  bright  eye  and 
wagged  his  tail  cheerfully.  I  think  that  he 
quite  expected  to  receive  orders  to  go  in  and 
drag  his  fallen  enemy  out  to  the  light  of  day. 


308  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Realizing  that  as  a  general  thing  Guard  under- 
stood his  own  business  I  forbore  to  reproach 
him,  at  the  moment,  for  having  treed  or 
grounded  Mr.  Horton. 

"Are  you  badly  hurt?"  I  inquired,  falling  on 
my  knees  before  the  crevice,  and  trying  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  victim  of  an  accident. 

"  I  do'no's  I'm  hurt  in  none  of  my  limbs," 
was  the  cautious  reply,  "  but  I'm  covered  with 
bruises,  and  I'm  pinned  fast.  I  couldn't  a'  got 
away  if  I  hadn't  been,  for  that  brute  was  de- 
termined to  have  my  life.  Turn  about's  fair 
play  ;  we'll  see  how  he  conies  out  after  this !" 

Clearly,  the  victim's  temper  had  not  been 
improved  by  the  night's  adventures,  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  he  had  made  almost  no  effort  at 
all  to  escape  from  a  position  which,  although 
certainly  uncomfortable,  had  the  great  advan- 
age  of  keeping  the  dog  at  bay.  I  thought  of 
the  Land  Office  in  Fairplay  and  of  the  business 
that  was  probably  being  transacted  there  at 
that  moment,  and  resolved  to  give  Guard  the 
whole  of  the  roast  that  was  left  over  from 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  809 

yesterday's  dinner  when  we  reached  home 
again. 

"  Ain't  you  even  goin'  to  try  to  help  me  ? 
Goin'  to  let  nie  lay  here  an'  die  ?"  demanded  the 
angry  voice  from  under  the  ruins. 

"  Oh,  no,  certainly  not.  I'll  try  to  help  you 
out.  I  guess  you've  been  here  long  enough,"  I 
replied,  cheerfully. 

"  Huh  !  I  should  think  I  had  been  here 
long  enough.  This  night's  vvork'll  prob'ly  cost 
me  thousands  of  dollars — but  I'll  have  that 
whelp's  life  when  I  do  git  out ;  that's  one  com- 
fort." 

For  a  wicked  instant  I  was  tempted  to  turn 
away  and  leave  our  unrepentant  enemy  where 
he  was.  The  impulse  passed  as  quickly  as  it 
came,  but  I  not  ashamed  to  confess  that  before 
setting  to  work  to  try  to  extricate  the  prisoner 
I  threw  my  arms  around  Guard's  neck  and 
hugged  him  ecstatically.  "  It's  all  right ;  we're 
safe  !"  I  whispered  in  his  ear,  as  if  he  could  un- 
derstand me — and  I  am  not  sure  to  this  day 
that  he  could  not.  Then  I  began  tugging  away 


310  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

at  the  rotten  pieces  of  wood  that,  fallen  in  a 
heap,  formed  a  rough  sort  of  wickiup,  under 
which  Mr.  Hortoii  reclined  at  length.  It  was  a 
pretty  hard  task,  for  some  of  the  timbers  were 
heavy  enough  to  tax  all  my  strength ;  but  an 
opening  was  made  at  last,  and  through  it  Mr. 
Horton  slowly  crawled  into  the  light.  He  was 
compelled  to  advance  backward,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  crawfish,  and  as  he  finally  got  clear 
of  the  ruins  and  staggered  to  his  feet,  he  was  a 
most  disreputable-looking  figure.  Apart  from 
a  good  many  scratches  and  bruises,  he  did  not 
seem  to  be  injured  in  the  least.  The  timbers 
had  fallen  in  such  a  way  that  their  weight  did 
not  rest  on  him.  His  scowling  face,  as  he 
turned  it  to  the  light,  was  further  disfigured  by 
several  long  scratches  and  by  a  dry  coating  of 
blood  and  dirt.  His  coat — the  coat,  again — 
was  torn,  his  hat  gone,  and  his  bushy  iron-gray 
hair  stood  fiercely  upright.  The  change  from 
the  semi-darkness  of  his  place  of  imprisonment 
to  the  full  light  of  day  partially  blinded  him, 
and  he  stood,  blinking  and  winking  for  a 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  311 

full  minute  after  getting  on  his  feet;  then 
he  apprehensively  examined  his  arms  and 
legs. 

"  I  reckon  there  ain't  none  of  'em  broken,"  he 
said  at  last,  grudgingly.  "  But  it's  no  thanks  to 
that  dog  of  your'n  that  I  ain't  chawed  into 
mince-meat — confound  you!" — this  to  Guard, 
who  was  sniffing  inquiringly  at  the  legs  of  his 
late  quarry.  The  words  were  further  empha- 
sized by  a  vicious  kick,  which,  missing  its  in- 
tended victim,  did  astounding  execution  on 
something  else. 

We  were  standing,  at  the  moment,  on  a  drift 
of  leaves  that  had  lain  inside  the  hut.  Mr. 
Horton's  vigorous  kick  sent  a  shower  of  these 
leaves  flying  in  all  directions,  and  disclosed,  half 
hidden  beneath  them,  a  large,  square,  leather- 
bound  volume,  on  which  my  eyes  rested  in 
amazed  recognition,  while  Guard,  with  a  bark 
of  delight,  took  his  station  beside  it,  wagging  his 
tail  joyfully. 

I  looked  at  Mr.  Horton,  whose  face,  under  its 
mask  of  blood  and  dirt,  had  turned  the  color  of 


312  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

gray  ashes.    He  began  to  back  slowly  away  to- 
ward his  horse. 

"  Wait  I"  I  cried ;  "  I  want  you  to  tell  me — you 
must  tell  me,  Mr.  Horton,  what  you  were  doing 
last  night.  How  came  Jessie's  dictionary  here  ?" 

"  Jessie's  dictionary  ?"  His  voice  rose  in  a 
shrill  cry,  that  made  me  jump,  and  drew  a  warn- 
ing growl  from  Guard. 

I  thought  of  the  window  beside  Ralph's  crib, 
that  Jessie  so  stoutly  averred  she  did  not  leave 
open,  and  light  dawned  upon  me.  "  Yes !"  I 
repeated,  sternly,  contempt  for  the  wretch  before 
me  overcoming  all  fear ;  "  Jessie's  dictionary." 
I  had,  by  this  time,  picked  up  the  book.  Mr. 
Horton  extended  his  hand  toward  it ;  and  his 
tone  was  almost  humble  as  he  said  : 

"  Let  me  see  it." 

When  the  book  was  in  his  hands,  he  turned 
over  the  leaves,  examining  them  with  evident 
surprise  and  bewilderment.  Finally  : 

"  It  is  a  dictionary,  ain't  it  ?"  he  said,  feebly, 
and  repeated,  under  his  breath,  "  It  is  a  dic- 
tionary !" 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  313 

"  You  thought,  when  you  opened  the  window 
last  night,  and  stole  it  off  the  ledge,  that  it  was 
the  Bible,  with  our  family  record  in  it,  didn't 
you  ?"  I  recklessly  inquired.  But  Mr.  Horton 
was  past  being  angry. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  he  said,  making  the  admission 
as  if  still  dazed. 

"  And  you  left  the  window  open  ?"  I  went 
on. 

"  Yes,  I  did.  The  dog  took  after  me — the 
dog  has  been  hot  on  my  trail  from  first  to  last, 
it  'pears,  and  you  ain't  been  fur  behind  him." 

"  No,"  I  admitted,  glancing  at  his  torn  coat, 
from  which  the  upper  button  was  still  absent, 
"  I  don't  think  I  have.  I  even  have  a  bit  of 
your  property  as  a  reward  for  some  of  my  work. 
There's  a  button  missing  from  your  coat.  I 
found  it." 

"  Where  ?"  Mr.  Horton  inquired,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Under  the  window  that  you  are  so  fond  of 
visiting ;  the  one  that  you  started  the  fire  under 
some  weeks  ago." 


314  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

Mr.  Horton  stirred  uneasily,  and  again 
glanced  toward  his  horse.  "  You  think  I  lost 
the  button  there,  do  you  ?" 

"  I  know  you  did." 

Mr.  Horton  did  not  dispute  the  statement. 
He  had  dropped  down  on  a  log,  after  the  dis- 
covery of  the  dictionary,  as  if  his  knees  were  too 
weak  to  sustain  him.  He  looked  at  Guard,  and 
then  at  me,  studying  us  both  for  a  full  minute. 

"  You  make  quite  a  pair  of  detectives,  you 
and  the  dog,"  he  said.  Then,  suddenly,  he  rose 
to  his  feet,  his  bunched  up  figure  straightened, 
he  lifted  his  head,  as  one  might  who  had  in- 
wardly made  some  strong  resolve,  and  I  felt, 
with  a  curious  kind  of  thrill,  that  a  new  atmos- 
phere enveloped  us  both. 

Quite  irrelevantly,  as  it  then  seemed  to  me, 
some  words  that  father  had  spoken  many  weeks 
ago,  came  into  my  mind :  "  They  all  tell  me," 
he  had  said,  "  that  Horton's  as  good  a  friend  as 
one  need  ask  for,  once  let  him  be  fairly  beaten 
at  his  own  game."  Could  that  be  true  ?  Surely, 
if  ever  a  man  was  fairly  and  very  badly  beaten, 


GUARD'S  PRISONER  315 

this  one  was.  The  result  had  been  brought 
about,  in  a  measure,  by  his  own  blundering,  but  it 
was  none  the  less  effective  for  that.  If  he  would 
but  acknowledge  it — if  he  would  cease  to  perse- 
cute us !  At  the  very  thought  of  such  a  thing 
as  that  the  world  seemed  suddenly  to  grow 
radiant.  I  had  not  seemed  to  realize  before  how 
much  of  our  trouble,  our  unspoken  apprehen- 
sion and  dread  of  impending  calamity  was  due 
to  this  man. 

"  Say,"  Mr.  Horton  suddenly  exclaimed,  look- 
ing squarely  in  my  face  for  the  first  time,  "  I 
reckon  I've  been  making  an  everlastin'  fool 
of  myself  long  enough !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MR.    HORTON   CAPITULATES 

I  HAD  not  been  very  polite  to  Mr.  Horton  be- 
fore tbat  morning,  but  when  he  made  the  abrupt 
declaration  that  he  had  made  a  fool  of  himself 
long  enough,  I  was  civil  enough  to  refrain  from 
contradicting  him. 

"  I  ain't  had  no  breakfast,"  he  went  on,  pres- 
ently, glancing  at  his  torn  dress.  "  I'm  a  pretty 
tough-looking  subject,  too,  I  reckon."  Again  I 
did  not  dispute  the  statement.  Looking  away 
from  me,  he  took  a  step  or  two  toward  the  spot 
where  his  horse  awaited  him,  then  turned  reso- 
lutely back  again.  "  Say,  I'm  going  to  own  up 
while  I've  got  courage  to  do  it !"  he  exclaimed, 
speaking  rapidly  and  with  suppressed  excite- 
ment :  "  I  ain't  treated  you  and  your  folks  right, 
Miss  Leslie  ;  I've  knowed  it  all  along ;  but,  you 
see,  I'd  got  my  mind  set  on  that  bit  of  land 
that  your  father  took  up — not  that  I  needed  it, 
316 


MR.  HORTON    CAPITULATES  317 

or  anything  of  that  kind — a  claim  would  'a'  been 
more  bother  than  good  to  me  as  a  general  thing ; 
but  I'd  said  to  folks  that  I  meant  to  have  it 
and  I'd  managed  to  get  up  a  kind  of  ugly  pride 
in  showing  folks  that  what  I  said  went, 
whether  or  no. 

"  My  wife — she's  a  good  woman — I  do' no  what 
she'd  do  if  she  was  to  know  all  that  I've  done 
or  tried  to  do,  but  I  reckon  you  know  pretty 
well,  Miss  Leslie.  "Well,  you've  known  Jake 
Horton  as  he  was.  I'm  going  to  give  you  all  a 
chance  to  know  him  as  he  is  now.  When  a  man 
undertakes  to  do  a  bit  of  spite  work  like  this ; 
work  that  he's  no  call  to  feel  proud  of,  and 
knows  that  so  well  that  he  tries  to  do  it  alone 
and  in  the  dark,  and  is  held  back  from  making 
a  consummate  idiot  of  himself,  and  a  criminal, 
too,  like  enough,  by  a  dog  and  a  young  girl,  it's 
time  to  call  a  halt.  That's  what  I'm  going  to 
do.  I'm  going  to  call  a  halt  and  travel  a  new 
trail  from  this  on.  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe 
anything  that  I  say,  Miss  Leslie,  there  ain't  no 
reason  at  present  why  you  should,  but  there 


318  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

will  be !"  He  paused  to  moisten  liis  dry  lips.  I 
looked  up  at  him  expectantly.  "  I'm  going  to 
do  what's  right  by  you  and  yours,  from  this 
on,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  the  look.  Despite 
my  past  acquaintance  with  him  I  believed  him, 
and  indignantly  strove  to  smother  the  torment- 
ing little  recollection,  that  would  keep  obtruding 
itself — the  recollection  that,  from  the  moment 
that  the  deed  to  the  homestead  was  secured  this 
man  would  be  powerless  to  injure  us,  unless  he 
did  it  openly  and  in  ways  that  might  be  easily 
brought  home  to  him,  and  it  was  now  too  late 
for  him  to  do  us  any  harm  at  the  Land  Office. 

I  am  ashamed  to  be  obliged  to  record  that 
Mr.  Horton's  declaration  of  a  change  in  his 
feelings  toward  us,  and  his  promises  of  better 
conduct  toward  us  in  the  future  were  accom- 
panied in  my  secret  thought  by  such  damaging 
reflections,  but  such  was  the  case.  The  dic- 
tionary was  under  my  arm  and  glancing  down  at 
it  I  said :  "  I  would  like  to  know,  if  you  don't 
mind,  Mr.  Horton,  how  this  book — and  you — 
came  to  be  under  the  ruins  of  that  shack  ?" 


MR.    HORTON   CAPITULATES  319 

There  was  a  big  black  and  blue  bruise  on  the 
back  of  Mr.  Horton's  right  hand,  the  hand  that 
some  weeks  previously  had  been  injured  by  an 
oak  splinter,  as  he  told  his  wife,  on  the  night 
that  I  had  fired  at  a  man  fleeing  up  the  hillside. 
Looking  attentively  at  the  bruise,  and  not  at  all 
at  me,  Mr.  Horton  replied  : 

"  Well ;  it  was  an  easier  thing  to  undertake 
than  it  is  to  tell ;  that's  so.  'Bout  as  easy  to  tell 
though  as  it  was  to  go  through  with.  That's  a 
wide-awake  dog  of  yours,  Miss  Leslie,  lives  up 
to  his  name,  too.  He  was  living  right  up  to  it 
last  night  when  I  sneaked  up  to  your  window 
after  watching  you  and  Miss  Jessie  go  out  to 
the  corral,  and  making  sure  that  the  boy  was 
asleep.  I  opened  the  window,  got  the  book 
that,  I  made  sure,  was  the  Bible  that  I  had 
seen  put  on  the  window  ledge  that  morning,  and 
started  back  toward  my  horse.  But  I'd  forgot 
one  thing,  I'd  forgot  about  the  dog.  He  didn't 
forget  himself,  though  ;  he  came  round  the  corner 
after  me  and  I  had  to  leg  it  like  scat.  I  had 
studied  some  about  him  earlier  in  the  day; 


320  TWO   WYOMING   GIRLS 

enough  so  that  I  had  thrown  a  piece  of  poisoned 
meat  near  the  upper  trail.  Not  seeing  anything 
of  him  in  the  evening  I  never  thought  of  him 
again  until  I  felt  him  a-holt  of  my  coat-tail,  for 
he  caught  up  with  me  in  a  minute.  I  do'no 
how  it  would  'a'  come  out  between  us,  but  jest 
then  while  I  was  pulling  up  the  hill  and  he  was 
pulling  back  for  all  he  was  worth,  we  come  to 
the  meat,  stumbled  over  it,  in  fact.  The  dog 
let  go  my  coat — he's  young,  I  reckon — "  the 
victim  interpolated,  impartially ;  "  an  old  dog 
wouldn't  a  give  up  his  game  for  such  a  thing  as 
that — and  stopped  to  sniff  the  meat.  That  give 
me  time  to  reach  my  horse,  but  he  come  tearing 
after  me  like  a  whole  pack  o'  bloodhounds. 
After  I  was  fairly  in  the  saddle,  though,  I  didn't 
hear  anything  more  of  the  dog.  I  'lowed  that 
he'd  given  up  and  gone  back,  or  else  that  he'd 
swallered  the  meat  and  the  poison  had  got  in 
its  work.  I  rode  down  along  the  ravine,  feeling 
good.  As  I  said,  I'd  planned  it  out  beforehand. 
I  knew  jest  what  I  was  going  to  do  with  the  Bi — 
dictionary.  I  didn't  'low  to  plumb  destroy  it. 


MR.  HORTON    CAPITULATES  321 

I  'lowed  that  when  it  was  too  late  for  it  to  be  of 
any  use  to  you — that  is,  after  I'd  entered  the 
claim — I'd  see  to  it  that  it  accidentally  come  to 
light  again.  I  didn't  want  to  plumb  destroy  it," 
he  repeated  apologetically. 

I  made  no  comment,  and  Mr.  Horton,  pluck- 
ing a  pine  branch,  began  divesting  it  of  its 
needles  with  fingers  that  shook  a  little  in  spite 
of  himself  as  he  proceeded : 

"  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  hide  the  Bi — dic- 
tionary in  the  old  shack  here  until  it  was  time 
to  bring  it  to  light  again.  When  I  got  to  that 
break  in  the  canon  wall,  down  here,  I  put  the 
horse  up  the  break  and  rode  to  the  shack,  and 
then — I  made  a  mistake."  He  paused  to  silently 
review  this  mistake,  then  continued :  "  Instead 
of  dismounting  and  carefully  covering  the  book 
with  the  leaves,  as  I'd  ought  to  'a'  done,  I  jest 
slung  it  into  the  shack,  letting  it  fall  where  it 
would.  I  heard  it  fall,  soft  like,  on  the  leaves, 
and  then  I  went  on  home.  My  wife,  she  had 
supper  all  ready,  and  I  sot  down  and  et  it.  I 
told  her  I  was  going  to  start  right  off,  as  soon 
21 


322  TWO    WYOMING    GIRLS 

as  I'd  done  eating,  for  town.  She  kind  o'  ob- 
jected to  my  going  then  ;  said  she'd  been  want- 
ing to  go  herself,  to  help  you  folks  when  it  come 
to  proving  up.  That  made  me  some  mad,  for  I 
wan't  figuring  on  helping  you  then.  But  all  the 
time  that  I  was  eating  supper,  and  all  the  time 
that  she  was  talking,  I  kept  thinking :  *  'Spos'n 
some  one  should  come  along  past  that  shack, 
look  in  there,  and  see  that  book  lying  there  ?'  I 
felt  that  I'd  ought  to  'a'  covered  it  up  with 
leaves" — "and  Robin  Redbreast  painfully  did 
cover  them  with  leaves,"  ran  the  silent  under- 
current of  my  thought,  while  I  listened  gravely 
to  Mr.  Horton's  elucidation  of  the  mystery  of 
the  book.  "  I  felt  it  so  strong  that  nothing 
would  suit  me,  at  last,  but  I  must  make  my  way 
back  there  and  cover  it  before  I  started  for  town. 
So,  while  my  wife  thought,  after  I'd  mounted 
again,  that  I  was  riding  toward  town,  I  was 
sneaking  back  up  the  canon.  I  tied  my  horse 
near  the  break  in  the  wall,  and  went  to  the  shack 
on  foot,  this  time.  It  was  as  dark  as  a  stack  of 
black  cats  inside  the  shack.  I  couldn't  see  a 


MR.  HORTON    CAPITULATES  323 

thing — I  stooped  down,  and  was  feeling  'round 
'mong  the  leaves  for  the  book,  when  I 
run  up  ag'in'  a  surprise."  Mr.  Horton  dropped 
the  branch,  now  denuded  of  its  needles,  and 
stared  thoughtfully  at  the  bruise  on  his  hand. 
"  That  dog — he  wan't  dead,  as  it  turned  out ;  he 
hadn't  even  gone  back,  or  gone  before.  He  was 
all  there  and  ready  for  business — I  had  time  to 
study  the  thing  out  whilst  I  was  a  lyin'  on  ray 
back,  last  night,  starin'  up  into  his  eyes  that 
was  glarin'  down  into  mine,  through  a  chink  in 
the  logs — and  I  figured  it  out  that  he'd  follered 
me,  quiet,  after  I'd  mounted ;  then,  when  I 
threw  the  book  into  the  shack,  he'd  gone  in  there 
and  stayed  with  it.  He  knew  that  it  belonged 
to  his  folks,  and  he  meant  to  guard  it.  He  did, 
too.  As  I  was  stoopin'  down,  feeling  round, 
something  gave  a  yell,  all  at  once,  that  made  my 
hair  stan'  up,  stiff  and  spiky,  all  over  my  head, 
and,  next  thing,  something — some  animal — 
sprung  at  me  with  such  force  that  I  reeled  and 
fell  back  ag'in'  the  side  of  the  shack,  and  then — 
the  shack  it  fell,  too.  I  do'  know's  I  fainted  !" 


324  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Mr.  Horton  continued,  reflectively  ;  "  I  never 
have  lost  conscientiousness  as  I  know  of,  but 
there  was  quite  a  spell  that  I  didn't  realize 
where  I  was,  nor  what  had  happened.  When  I 
did  come  to  I  found  that  I  was  pinned  to  the 
ground,  and  the  animal — I  hadn't  recognized 
him  for  your  dog  yet — was  stretched  out  on  the 
rubbish  above  my  body,  looking  down  at  me  and 
growling.  The  critter  growled  so  ferocious 
whenever  I  tried  to  move  that  I  gin  up  trying. 
I  had  found  out,  though,  that  the  animal  was  a 
dog,  and,  nat'erally,  I'd  a  pretty  clear  idea  whose 
dog  it  was." 

Mr.  Horton  concluded  abruptly.  He  got  up 
slowly  and  stiffly,  and  again  started  toward 
his  horse.  Watching  him,  as  he  walked  away, 
I  saw  that  he  looked  broken  and  humbled,  and 
an  impulsive  desire  to  help  him,  who  had 
so  often  hindered  us,  took  possession  of  me. 
"  Wait,"  I  cried,  starting  up  suddenly,  for  I  had 
also  found  a  seat  on  one  of  the  fallen  logs  ; 
"  wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Horton  !"  He  stopped,  and 
I  went  up  to  him.  "  Mr.  Horton,  I  said,  ear- 


MR.  HORTON   CAPITULATES  325 

nestly,  "  I  want  to  do  what's  right.  I  am  sure 
that  you  are  sorry  for  what  you  have  done — " 

"  I  am,  you  may  believe  me,  Miss  Leslie ;  I 
am  sorry.  I've  done  many  a  mean  thing  in  my 
life,  but  none  meaner  than  this  job  of  perse- 
cutin'  a  couple  of  orphan  girls  and  their  baby 
brother,  and  I've  known  it,  and  been  ashamed 
of  it,  all  along  in  my  own  heart.  But  I'd  never 
'a'  given  in,  nor  given  nor  owned  up  to  what  I'm 
telling  you  this  minute,  Leslie  Gordon,  if  you'd 
'a'  shown  less  spunk  and  courage ;  and  I'll  be 
as  good  a  friend  to  you  after  this  as  I've  been 
merciless  enemy  before  it.  I  don't  ask  you  to 
believe  me — " 

"  But  I  do  believe  you  !  I  do  believe  you !  If 
I — if  we  can  begin  again — if  keeping  still  about 
what  happened  last  night — and — about  other 
things ;  the  button,  and  the  fire,  and  the  crops, 
with  your  cattle  brand  on  them,"  I  stammered, 
eagerly,  not  making  things  very  clear  in  my 
haste,  but  Mr.  Horton  understood  me. 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Leslie,"  he  said,  look- 
ing away  from  me ;  "  you  are  a  good  girl.  You 


326  TWO   WYOMING    GIRLS 

see,  my  wife  believes  in  me — she's  a  better  man 
than  I  am." 

"  Yes ;  she  must  not  know.  No  one  need 
know  anything  about  it,  for  I  have  told  no  one. 
I  have  kept  my  own  counsel,  and  I  will  keep  it 
still." 

Mr.  Horton  faced  me  now,  holding  out  his 
hand.  There  was  a  mist  over  his  hard  eyes, 
and  wonderfully  softened  and  improved  those 
same  eyes  were  in  such  unaccustomed  setting. 
I  laid  my  hand  in  his,  he  clasped  it  closely  for 
an  instant,  then  dropping  it,  observed  in  his 
usual  tones  : 

"Well,  I  reckon  I'll  ride  over  to  the  fur 
pasture ;  then  I'll  git  home  again  jest  about  the 
time  the  folks  come  in  from  town." 

"  No,"  I  said  ;  "  come  home  with  me  first  and 
have  some  breakfast,  and  get  brushed  up  a  lit- 
tle." 

"  I  will,"  he  replied,  readily,  adding,  with  a 
rueful  glance  at  his  torn  clothing,  "  I  need  a 
little  mending  done  about  as  bad  as  any  one  I've 
seen  lately." 


MR.  HORTON   CAPITULATES  327 

Guard  and  I  walked  along  the  ravine  with 
him,  while  he  led  his  horse.  Oil  emerging  from 
the  ravine  Mr.  Horton  suddenly  stopped,  and 
began  looking  anxiously  around.  "  That  meat, 
now,"  he  observed,  at  length,  "  it  ought  not  to 
be  left  layin'  around." 

I  had  put  the  poisoned  meat  up  in  the  fork  of 
a  pine  tree,  and  now  showed  it  to  him.  "  We'd 
better  dispose  of  it,"  he  said,  taking  it  down. 
Reaching  the  house,  I  went  on  in  to  prepare 
breakfast  for  my  unlooked-for  guest,  who  lingered 
outside  until  his  horse  was  cared  for ;  then  he 
came  in,  and,  going  straight  to  the  stove,  lifted 
the  lid  and  dropped  the  meat  on  the  glowing 
coals.  "There!"  he  exclaimed,  replacing  the 
lid,  "that  bit  of  death  won't  hurt  anything 
now." 

An  hour  afterward,  washed,  brushed,  and 
partially  mended — for  I  do  hate  mending,  even 
in  a  righteous  cause,  like  this — breakfasted,  and 
with  his  horse  equally  refreshed,  Mr.  Horton 
rode  away,  looking  like,  and,  I  am  sure,  feeling 
like,  another  man. 


328  TWO    WYOMING   GIRLS 

Early  in  the  afternoon  I  went  over  to  the  Wil- 
sons, and  brought  Ralph  back  with  me.  Long 
before  they  could  possibly  arrive  we  were  both 
watching  for  Jessie's  and  Joe's  return.  The 
stars  were  shining  big  and  bright,  and  Ralph 
was  nodding  sleepily  in  his  high  chair  when  the 
bays  and  the  light  wagon,  with  Jessie  and  Joe 
perched  on  the  front  seat,  came  rattling  down 
the  homeward  road.  Snatching  Ralph,  who 
was  wide  awake  on  the  instant,  up  in  my  arms, 
I  ran  out  to  meet  them. 

"  We  didn't  have  one  bit  of  trouble,  Leslie !" 
cried  Jessie,  jubilantly,  as  the  team  stopped  at 
the  gate;  "Mr.  Horton  never  came  near  us. 
I'm  afraid  we've  been  almost  too  ready  to  believe 
evil  of  him ;  but  it  won't  matter  now,  anyway, 
for  the  land  is  ours,  Leslie,  ours !" 

"  Hit  is  so,  honey,  chile !"  echoed  old  Joe's 
gentle  voice.  His  black  face  was  one  expan- 
sive grin  of  satisfaction.  "  Young  Mas'r  Ralph 
Gordon  ain't  nebber  gwine  want  fur  place  to 
lay  he  head,  now ;  yo'  listen  at  dat !" 

"  Neither   is   Joe !"  said  Jessie,  brightly,  as 


MR.  HORTON    CAPITULATES  329 

she  sprang  to  the  ground.  "  Every  one  has 
been  so  kind,  Leslie,"  she  continued,  as  we 
turned  back  into  the  house,  while  Joe  drove  on 
to  the  barn  with  the  horses.  "  Lots  of  the 
neighbors  were  down  there,  besides  our  wit- 
nesses. I  feel  so  cheered,  Leslie,  dear.  We 
have  so  many  friends." 

That  was  true,  indeed ;  but,  as  time  passed, 
not  one  among  them  all  proved  to  be  more  help- 
ful, steadfast,  and  efficient  than  was  our  erst- 
while enemy,  Mr.  Jacob  Horton. 

THE    END 


<Best 


FOR  S0re  AND  GIRLS 


A 


SERIES  of  books  for  young 
people  that  contains  the  latest 
and  best  works  of  the  most  popular 
writers  for  boys  and  girls.  The 
stories  are  not  only  told  in  an  inter- 
esting and  charming  manner,  but 
most  of  them  contain  something  in 
the  way  of  information  or  instruction, 
and  all  are  of  a  good  moral  tone.  For  this  reason  they 
prove  doubly  good  reading ;  for,  while  the  child  is 
pleasantly  employing  his  time,  he  is  also  improving  his 
mind  and  developing  his  character.  Nowhere  can 
better  books  be  found  to  put  into  the  hands  of  young 
people.  They  are  profusely  and  handsomely  illustrated 
by  the  best  artists  and  are  well  printed  on  good  paper 
with  exceedingly  handsome  and  durable  bindings. 

Sold  by  the  leading  booksellers  everywhere,  or  sent 
prepaid  on  receipt  of  price. 

Cloth,  each,  $1.25 


The  *Penn  Publishing  Company 

923  cARCH  STREET  PHILADELPHIA 


STORIES  FOR  GIRLS 


TheFerry  cMaidofthe  Chattahoochee 

*By  cAnnie  cM.  Barnes  Illustrated  by  Ida.  Waugh 

An  heroic  little  Georgia  girl,  in  her  father's  extremity,  takes 
charge  of  his  ferry,  and  through  many  vicissitudes  and  several 
impending  calamities,  succeeds  in  carrying  out  her  purpose  of 
supporting  her  invalid  parent  and  his  family.  The  heroine's 
cheerfulness  and  hearty  good  humor,  combined  with  an  un- 
flinching zeal  in  her  determination  to  accomplish  her  work, 
make  a  character  which  cannot  fail  to  appeal  to  young  people. 

cA  cMaid  of  the  First  Century 

*By  Lucy  Foster  cMadison  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

A  little  maid  of  Palestine  goes  in  search  of  her  father,  who, 
for  political  reasons,  has  been  taken  as  a  slave  to  Rome.  She 
is  shipwrecked  in  the  Mediterranean,  but  is  rescued  by  a 
passing  vessel  bound  for  Britain.  Eventually  an  opportunity  is 
afforded  her  for  going  to  Rome,  where,  after  many  trying  and 
exciting  experiences,  she  and  her  father  are  united  and  his 
liberty  is  restored  to  him. 

cMy  Lady  ^Barefoot 

*By  SMrs.  Evelyn  Raymond  Illustrated  By  Ida  Waugh 

A  beautifully  told  story  of  the  trials  of  a  little  backwoods  girl 
who  lives  in  a  secluded  place  with  an  eccentric  uncle,  until  his 
death.  The  privations  she  undergoes  during  his  life-time,  her 
search  for  other  relatives,  her  rather  uncongenial  abode  with 
them,  her  return  to  her  early  home  to  acquire  her  uncle's 
estate,  and  thus  to  enjoy  a  useful  and  happy  life,  form  a  most 
interesting  narrative  of  a  girl  whose  ruggedness  and  simplicity 
of  character  must  appeal  to  the  admiration  of  all  readers. 


'Dorothy 

<By  Julie  cM.  Lippmann  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

This  is  a  most  interesting  story  of  a  bright  and  spirited  young 
rirl  whose  widowed  mother  re-marries.  The  impulsive  girl 
chafes  under  the  new  relationship,  being  unwilling  to  share 
with  another  the  bounteous  love  of  her  mother  which  she  had 
learned  to  claim  wholly  for  her  own.  By  the  exercise  of  great 
tact  and  kindness,  the  obdurate  Dorothy  is  at  last  won  over, 
and  becomes  a  most  estimable  girl. 

ZMiss  Wildfire 

<By  Julie  cM.  Lippmann  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

The  story  of  a  governess'  attempt  to  win  the  love  and  confi- 
dence of  her  ward,  who,  owing  to  a  lack  of  early  restraint,  is 
inclined  to  be  somewhat  of  a  hoyden.  The  development  of 
the  girl's  character  and  her  eventual  victory  over  her  turbu- 
lent disposition  combine  to  form  a  story  of  unusual  merit  and 
one  which  will  hold  its  reader's  eager  attention  throughout. 
"A  story  of  girls  for  girls  that  teaches  a  moral  without 
labeling  or  tagging  it  at  the  end."  —  Western  Christian 
Advocate,  Cincinnati,  O. 

<An  Odd  Little  Lass 

^By  Jessie  E.  Wright  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

This  is  a  story  of  the  regeneration  of  a  little  street  waif.  She 
begins  life  in  a  lowly  court  of  a  large  city.  Her  adventures 
are  numerous,  and  often  quite  exciting.  After  a  time  she 
is  transplanted  to  the  country,  where  after  many  thrilling 
experiences  she  eventually  grows  into  a  useful  and  lovable 
young  woman.  The  story  is  pleasantly  told,  and  abounds 
in  interesting  incident. 

"  The  story  is  an  intensely  interesting  one,  and  abounds  in 
pleasing  and  unique  situations." — Religious  Telescope,  Dayton, 
Ohio. 

3, 


Two  Wyoming  Girls 

*By  cMrs.  Carrie  L.  cMarshall        Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

Two  girls,  thrown  upon  their  own  resources,  are  obliged  to 
"  prove  up  "  their  homestead  claim.  This  would  be  no  very 
serious  matter  were  it  not  for  the  persecution  of  an  unscru- 
pulous neighbor,  who  wishes  to  appropriate  the  property  to 
his  own  use.  The  girls  endure  many  privations,  have  a  num- 
ber of  thrilling  adventures,  but  finally  secure  their  claim  and 
are  generally  well  rewarded  for  their  courage  and  persever- 
ance. 

The  Girl  Anders 

<By  cMrs.  Carrie  L.  cMarshatt        Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

A  story  of  life  on  a  sheep  ranch  in  Montana.  The  dangers 
and  difficulties  incident  to  such  a  life  are  vividly  pictured,  and 
the  interest  in  the  story  is  enhanced  by  the  fact  that  the  ranch 
is  managed  almost  entirely  by  two  young  girls.  By  their 
energy  and  pluck,  coupled  with  courage,  kindness,  and  un- 
selfishness they  succeed  in  disarming  the  animosity  of  the 
neighboring  cattle  ranchers,  and  their  enterprise  eventually 
results  successfully. 

cAn  Everyday  Heroine 

<By  cMary  <A.  'Denison  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

The  heroine  is  not  an  impossible  character  but  only  a  pure, 
winsome,  earnest  girl,  who  at  fourteen  years  of  age  is  sud- 
denly bereft  of  fortune  and  father  and  becomes  the  chief  sup- 
port of  a  semi-invalid  mother.  While  there  are  many  touching 
scenes,  the  story  as  a  whole  is  bright  and  cheerful  and  moves 
forward  with  a  naturalness  and  ease  that  carries  its  read- 
ers along  and  makes  them  reluctant  to  put  down  the  book 
until  the  end  is  reached 


Her  College  T)ays 

<By  cMrs.  Clarke  Johnson  Illustrated  by  Ida  Waugh 

This  is  a  most  interesting  and  healthful  tale  of  a  girl's  life  in  a 
New  England  college.  The  trustful  and  unbounded  love  of 
the  heroine  for  her  mother  and  the  mutual  and  self-sacrificing 
devotion  of  the  mother  to  the  daughter  are  so  beautifully  in- 
terwoven with  the  varied  occurrences  and  exciting  incidents  of 
college  life  as  to  leave  a  most  wholesome  impression  upon 
the  mind  and  heart  of  the  reader. 


STORIES  FOR  <BOYS 


Uncrowning  a  King 

*By  EdwardS.  Mis,  cA.  §M.  Illustrated  by  J.  Steeple  'Davis 

A  tale  of  the  Indian  war  waged  by  King  Philip  in  1675.  The 
adventures  of  the  young  hero  during  that  eventful  period,  his 
efforts  in  behalf  of  the  attacked  towns,  his  capture  by  the 
Indians,  and  his  subsequent  release  through  the  efforts  of 
King  Philip  himself,  with  a  vivid  account  of  the  tragic  death 
of  that  renowned  Indian  chieftain,  form  a  most  interesting  and 
instructive  story  of  the  early  days  of  the  colonies. 

The  Young  Gold  Seekers 

%>  Edward  S.  Ellis f  <A.  cM.  Illustrated  by  F.  <A.  Carter 
A  thrilling  account  of  the  experiences  of  two  boys  during  a 
trip  to  the  gold  fields  of  Alaska.  The  hardships  that  they 
endure,  the  disappointments  they  suffer,  the  courage  and 
perseverance  that  they  manifest  in  the  face  of  seemingly 
insurmountable  obstacles,  and  their  eventual  success  in  their 
undertaking,  are  all  most  graphically  portrayed. 
5 


True  to  His  Trust 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  <A.  cM.  Illustrated  by  J.  Steeple  Vavis 

The  hero  of  this  story  will  win  his  way  at  once  into  the  heart 
of  every  one,  and  his  pluck  and  perseverance  will  carry  the 
sympathy  of  every  reader  through  his  many  adventures,  strug- 
gles, and  singular  experiences.  Like  all  of  the  author's  works, 
the  incidents  teach  in  the  most  convincing  manner  that  true 
manliness  and  sturdy  integrity  are  the  only  principles  through 
which  happiness  and  success  in  life  are  possible. 

Comrades  True 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  <A.  cM.  Illustrated 

In  following  the  career  of  two  friends  from  youth  to  manhood, 
the  author  weaves  a  narrative  of  intense  interest.  This 
story  is  more  realistic  than  is  usual,  as  the  two  heroes  pass 
through  the  calamitous  forest  fires  in  Northern  Minnesota  and 
barely  escape  with  their  lives.  They  have  other  thrilling  ad- 
ventures and  experiences  in  which  the  characteristics  of  each 
are  finely  portrayed. 

"  Among  juveniles  there  is  not  one  of  greater  interest,  or 
more  wholesome  influence  than  '  Comrades  True.'  " — Sentinel, 
Milwaukee,  Wis. 

(Among  the  Esquimaux 

<By  Edward  S.  Ellis,  <A.  €M.  Illustrated 

The  scenes  of  this  story  are  laid  in  the  Arctic  region,  the  cen- 
tral characters  being  two  sturdy  boys  whose  adventurous  spirit 
often  leads  them  into  dangerous  positions.  They  visit  Green- 
land ;  go  on  a  hunting  expedition,  have  a  number  of  stirring 
adventures,  but  ultimately  reach  home  safe  and  sound. 

"  A  capital  and  instructive  book  for  boys." — Post,  Boston, 
Mass. 

6 


,.i£?;?.U.™£RN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000025816     o 


